Reaping the Storm
by Octo8
Summary: Sequel to The First Human Spectre, set between ME 1 and ME 2. Shepard is dead. His squad mates and others have to deal with that - and with the political fallout he has created in the Alliance. Multi-PoV, mostly only loose connection between the single segments. Reading TFHS first is advised, but there is a summary of it inside.
1. Foreword

Welcome to Reaping the Storm, the sequel to The First Human Spectre, set in the aftermath of Shepard's death. For those of you who already have read TFHS, yes, I know you're all eager to see how ME 2 will play out, but we're not quite there yet. This story is meant to show the aftermath of Shepard's death and all the unrest he has created in the Alliance. Different to The First Human Spectre, it will be told in multiple PoVs, most of them only used once. Don't worry, it will probably be only about six or seven chapters before moving on to ME 2, only a loose series of events telling how people deal with Shepard's death and how the political fallout is.

For those who have not yet read The First Human Spectre: Naturally, I highly recommend reading it first, as it has greatly altered some of the canon outcomes of ME 1; parts of the story might not make any sense otherwise. However, if you don't want to prowl through 320,000 words, then you can read a summary here. Which might be generally useful for everybody, anyway.

So, The First Human Spectre's ME 1:

**Shepard****'****s ****Background****: **Earthborn, War Hero (past relationship to Sole Survivor)  
**Shepard****'****s ****status ****at ****his ****death****: **Council Spectre; left the Alliance in protest over BAaT, no longer Commander, actively refuses that address.  
**Love ****Interest****: **Tali  
**Feros****: **Colony is alive, ExoGeni has withdrawn from the planet and will most likely soon go under.  
**Rachni ****Queen****: **Alive (and the Council is left in the dark about that or the rachni presence on Noveria in general)  
**Virmire ****Survivor****: **Ashley (has resigned from the Alliance Navy in protest over Udina's schemes for galactic domination after the Battle of the Citadel)  
**Wrex****: **Is alive (and Shepard has the cure for the Genophage, and will hand it to him as soon as he can pacify Tuchanka)  
**Council****: **Dead  
**Human ****Councillor****: **Anita Goyle (has promised to uphold pressure on the Alliance on various matters)  
**Further ****Notes****: **Ongoing Council crackdown on Cerberus in process. Navigator Pressly is still alive as he left the _Normandy_ after the Battle of the Citadel. Emily Wong and Kirrahe are dead. 'Father' Kyle is free and his group intact, hidden from the Alliance.

Not quite the usual ME 1 summary, is it? There's a more en detail summary of what changed compares to canon below. But first, I need to explain some stuff:

As you may have noticed by now, I try to stay close to canon, with the only changes being what Shepard did and how people react to that. However, there is one exception to that I should already mention: ME 3 canon will be generally ignored. The game was a catastrophe, and while everybody laments the ending, this really is the least of its problems. By far. So, should I ever get to ME 3, its entire story will have to be rewritten. However, this means ME 3 canon will also be ignored in matters already appearing before ME 3: E.g., what's on Kasumi's greybox, Cerberus' background, the details of the Geth War, the territorial extension of various races (it makes no sense that human space should be that large while species that have been in space for a thousand years only have so few colonies) and so on. ME 1, ME 2 and Karpshyn's novels are canon in regards to this fic, everything afterward can die in a fire.

This also extends to how Tali looks. The usage of a poorly photoshopped free stock photo was bad enough, but most of all I don't like how human it makes quarians. That's silly. Asari are supposed to be the most human-like species; that's kind of their shtick. Also I like if humans have one unique physical feature (i.e., hair), instead of all other races being derivatives of humans in one form or another, making humans for unexplained reason the golden mean. There were some descriptions of Tali without suit in The First Human Spectre, and I'll keep to that instead of ME 3 canon. Not that this will be terribly important in this story, but hey, once ME 2 comes up...

And speaking of Cerberus: You might notice I already gave this Shepard a strong hatred for that group even before ME 3 came out. So any opposition to Cerberus is not "Hah! Shepard won't let himself be fooled by those who'll eventually sell out humanity" or anything like that. Rather, it's all based on how they're already presented in ME 1/2, the atrocities they've done there. In fact, I'm annoyed how they're enemies in ME 3. I'd rather have liked the opportunity to attack _them_ first... So I'll even spell it out already here: Cerberus will not be indoctrinated, and never be in any way on the side of or be associated with the Reapers. And never suddenly grow into a mega-army, either. Basically, it will always be ME 2 Cerberus, fighting for humanity... or so they claim. Shepard won't be too convinced.

Oh, and while I have your attention, one more thing: Now, I can understand that some people got kinda annoyed how all the politics stuff took over a big part of the plotline in The First Human Spectre. That's okay and maybe I did overdo it. However, what I find kinda disturbing is people who do try to justify the Alliance and what they did. The thing is, yes, it's all just fictional stuff - but opinions about that do reflect back on people and their attitudes. And seeing some of those opinions, that can be a depressing thought.

Well, I just wanted to have said that. Now, let us take a closer look at just what has changed compared to canon in The First Human Spectre:

**Shepard****/****Tali ****Romance**

Not much to summarize, really. Go read The First Human Spectre if you want to find out more... Though basically, Tali takes over the 'LI role' in all aspects: The one bursting out at Liara after Therum, the one talking to Shepard after the lockdown, the pre-Ilos scene, etc. And seeing how an unusual Shepard this story's one is, this also has its affect on her: At the end of the story, she probably is slightly more willing to confront authority than at the beginning...

**ExoGeni**

Shepard has Jeong and Dr Ross arrested, and gathers evidence for ExoGeni's crime: Abusing the population of Zhu's Hope as test group to see the effects of the Thorian, and then trying to kill them all, hundreds of people, to cover this up. Despite harsh resistance from the Alliance (who fears for ExoGeni's keystone role in its space colonization program) and the problems with megacorporate media, Shepard manages to publish his evidence with the help of Emily Wong and Anita Goyle (Udina's predecessor as Citadel ambassador, from the novel _Ascension_). In the ensuing trial, ExoGeni uses every trick to delay the process, but at the end of ME 1 its demise seems inevitable - either due to the trial or due to the horrible PR. However, this does not happen without casualties: Emily Wong is later assassinated while meeting with Shepard at Flux, and Tali is heavily injured.

**Cerberus**

Shepard's then girlfriend Sarah Schäfer committed suicide five years before ME 1 because she was this universe's sole survivor of Akuze and could not cope with the incident. Thus, when Shepard learns about Cerberus' role in this he swears revenge, especially since at time he already knows Cerberus is also responsible for the dead marine platoon on Edolus and the eradicated pioneer settlement on Chasca, too. Using Admiral Kahoku's data, he attacks the Cerberus bases on Binthu and Nepheron - and tells what he has found to the Council. The Council is utterly shocked about the finding of live rachni, an enemy they had thought long dead, and hence does everything to come cracking down on Cerberus.

Shepard also sends the encrypted Cerberus data found on Nepheron not only to the Alliance and the Shadow Broker, but to every intelligence service in the galaxy, hoping to hasten Cerberus' demise that way. The revelations about Cerberus hurt the Alliance's image, since they have proven unable so far to reign them in, especially as later Shepard fully publishes his findings (except the rachni) in asari media, but the Spectre does not care much about this. Furthermore, he does not tell the Council about the rachni queen on Noveria, since he frees her and has no intention to broadcast that. Hence, the Council is left wondering about the origin of Cerberus' rachni, and thus upholds the crackdown, which at the end of TFHS is still ongoing. Also, Cerberus' existence and crimes are public knowledge by the end of TFHS due to Shepard (see below).

**Biotics****/****BAaT**

When Shepard learns about BAaT from Kaidan, he reacts with an angry condemnation and says if this had happened to him, he would have joined one of the biotic terrorist cells. He is angry about this Alliance atrocity, and angry it appears like the Alliance has gotten away with it. However, a sequence of events he gets into changes that: During his mission to Major Kyle, one of Kyle's followers, Tisiphone (a non-believer of his cult of personality, who is only there because it gives biotics a community and sense of belonging) shows Shepard some victims of BAaT, who tell their stories to the Spectre. He is deeply disturbed by the injustices done to them and their ongoing marginalization, especially as it is something that could have happened to him had his biotic potential be discovered earlier. Thus not only does he not arrest Kyle (as that would destroy the group, robbing these desperate people of the only thing they have), but he also decides to give a new hide-out to his group in one of the bases he cleared of criminal elements earlier.

Grateful, Tisiphone informs him of the planned hostage taking of Burns, Chairman of the Alliance Parliament Subcommittee on Transhuman Studies, the man responsible for biotic affairs and for further denying reparations to the L2s. Shepard arrives at the hostage scene, where he is received peacefully due to Tisiphone vouching for him - and arrests Burns for obstruction of justice, as he has taken part in the classification of BAaT data. He gets Burns to give him all relevant data by threatening to fly him into a combat zone, and leaks those to asari media contacts given to him by Emily Wong. This causes a huge uproar in the Alliance. Most people condemn Shepard for the revelation of the crimes, rather than the Alliance for the crimes, but there is also much protest and outrage among humanity. More importantly, the asari condemn the crimes, and the turians join in for no other reason as to diplomatically harass the Alliance, so the Council begins to apply pressure on the Alliance over the matter.

Anita Goyle takes over both the legal battle against ExoGeni and the battle for justice of the BAaT survivors. At the end of ME 1, this battle is still ongoing: A deep divide runs through human society, and Council pressure on the Alliance is ongoing despite now being human-led (see below). Also, the Ascension Project is falling down hard: Most parents have recalled their children, as they do not trust the Alliance anymore, most enrolments for the next years have been cancelled, and the facilities are occupied by protesting instructors (some of them themselves BAaT survivors) and some of the older students.

**Virmire ****and ****the ****Genophage**

Upon arriving on Virmire, Shepard's first instinct is to simply bomb away Saren's facility from orbit. However, he changes his mind when he hears that Saren has a cure for the genophage, and instead simply agrees with Kirrahe's plan. As this plan has him infiltrating the base, far away from the salarians, that gives him the opportunity to grab the cure and keep it secret from the STG. With the aid of Rana Thanopti's codes Tali can download all necessary data. Nonetheless, Rana is shot as a potential witness and for her crimes against the imprisoned salarians.

Shepard successfully managed to keep his possession of the cure a secret. He promises Wrex that he will give it to him, as soon doing so will not risk immediately starting another round of the Krogan Rebellions, i.e. as soon as his race has settled down a bit.

**Shepard****'****s ****and ****Ashley****'****s ****relationship ****to ****the ****Alliance**

Due to his arrest of Burns and the leaking of classified Alliance data to the asari, Shepard gets a nasty surprise when returning to the Citadel after Virmire: The _Normandy_ is grounded, Shepard recalled as her CO, and suspended from the Navy. Enraged, Shepard calls it quit on his part, and throws his Star of Terra and rank insignia to Udina's feet. With Anderson's help, he takes over the Normandy and flees the Citadel. Since then, he does not wear the uniform or any Alliance insignia anymore at all, and also rejects being addressed as 'Commander' - he has completely broken with the Alliance. As a "parting gift" to the Alliance he leaks to his contacts in asari media how the Alliance had tried to suppress the ExoGeni trial, how it done forbidden AI experiments on Luna and the existence of Cerberus.

While mutineers, the Normandy crew saves Terra Nova from batarian terrorists (Bring Down The Sky DLC), something that causes great embarrassment to the Alliance - they had not been able to protect their largest colony, and instead mutineers had to do it. Additionally, Shepard uses the spotlight and rewon hero status for a grand public speech where he condemns en detail the failings and atrocities of the Alliance.

Ashley, meanwhile, is very opposed to Shepard's course, but can also understand him and admits he is only telling the truth. Still, her loyalty to the Alliance holds, resulting in many heated arguments with the Spectre - until the Battle of the Citadel. Shepard decides that that Fifth Fleet should concentrate its firepower on Sovereign, since he has no idea whether they can stand against both the Reaper and the geth, and would rather not risk it: Sovereign must be defeated at all costs. Thus, ironically after everything, Shepard hands the Citadel to the Alliance on a silver plate. Udina wants to establish sole human domination in the galaxy - but to Ashley, that merely confirms that whatever Shepard has said about the Alliance is true, that they are still willing to sacrifice everybody to gain power. Thus she tells the ambassador she is leaving the Alliance, too.

**The ****New ****Council**

Despite Udina's initial schemes, In the end, Anderson and Hackett can convince him that establishing a new, human-led Council is the better alternative. Shepard nominates Anita Goyle as Human councillor - a valid choice, as she was Udina's predecessor and hence has the necessary experience. And since Shepard's heroism is the only legitimization for the Alliance's restructuring of the Council, the Alliance has little choice than to accept her. At the end of ME 1, she promises to continue the fight for the BAaT survivors and the survivors of Zhu's Hope, if need be also against the Alliance despite being the Alliance's councillor.


	2. Prologue

Few people would have recognized the unremarkable space station for what it truly was. In fact, located as it was in a far off solar system that was slowly swallowed by its sun, a bloated red star, few even knew it existed. The system was otherwise uninhabited, and in fact all official records listed it as totally lifeless, barren and poor in natural resources. No interstellar shipping lane passed through within dozens of light years of it, and no explorer or adventurous miner searching for treasures would bumble into it. And yet, this space station was a centre of human power. As such, it potentially surpassed even Arcturus Station, the home of the Alliance Government and Parliament, and definitely competed with the headquarters of the Alliance's various megacorps.

And yet, Miranda Lawson, despite knowing all this in minute detail, was completely calm as she entered it. After all, as always, she was fully prepared for everything that laid ahead of her. There was nothing to be nervous about. In fact, there were only very few things in the galaxy which could make her truly nervous. And besides, it was not the first time she had entered Cerberus' centre, the seat of the enigmatic Illusive Man. Not even Miranda knew who he truly was or rather, who he had been once. She had accepted that. It was clear that _now_, he simply was the Illusive Man. It was not a role for him, something he did behind the facade of a regular civilian life. He had no regular civilian life anymore. Leading Cerberus _was_ his life, and he was nobody else anymore but the Illusive Man. And his history, the details of where he had come from and how he become what he was now, all that was a mystery - to the Alliance and Council, who would pay much to find out, to the Shadow Broker, who would pay even more, but also to it his closest allies and agents.

Miranda knew he held the power of life and death over her and countless others. However, she also knew that she was a far too valuable tool to him for him to ever consider anything like that. Thus even he, most likely the most powerful human in the galaxy, did not frighten her and she walked through his station with determined steps. She knew her way, of course. If she had forgotten it from rather long ago past visits, she could have asked the station's skeleton crew, of course - a mostly female group of people who were so blindly loyal to the Illusive Man personally that they hardly could be said to have any free will at all. However, Miranda _hated_ asking other people. Relying on other people. She had prepared _everything_ in advance. Even such details as what way she would have to use on the station.

She entered the central room of the station, basically the area the entire station had been built around. It was both the Illusive Man's office and also to a degree his living room. Beyond the hedonistic pleasures he indulged in, alcohol, tobacco and a series of sexual contacts Miranda knew but would rather not think about, he after all had no private life at all, so there was no distinction between where he lived and where he worked. It was a cleverly designed room. All its walls were holographic projectors, so that inside one had the feeling of standing on an infinite plain. And there were graphic interface projectors for the station's extremely advanced electronics everywhere. One quick hand gesture, and one could get access to more information than the Alliance's Naval Intelligence Service could ever dream of. Most likely only the Shadow Broker and some salarian dalatrasses commanded over more knowledge than Cerberus, and only the Illusive Man had access to all of it.

A cluster of the holographic screens showed her the way. At the centre of the room, surrounded by them, sat the Illusive Man, as always immersed in the ongoing projects and activities of his organization. There was a new project waiting for her, she knew. She already enjoyed the prospect of new challenges. What she did not enjoy was the sight of the man standing besides the Illusive Man's chair: Kai Leng, the organization's best assassin. A brute and a lunatic, as far as Miranda was concerned. Cocky all the way to self-destructiveness but thoughtless enough to make a loyal tool. And brilliant at what he did, Miranda had to admit that. She did not like him, though.

However, she nonetheless retained a perfectly calm exterior. She was highly used to dealing with unlikeable people. In fact, she disliked most Cerberus members she had to work with. Most of them had no idea what the organization stood for, what humanity could accomplish, what the greater picture was. Most of them were simply xenophobes, and Kai Leng was probably the worst of them. Miranda on the other hand did not hate the other races. They were opponents, of course, competitors, but nothing inherently loathsome. They were simply factors to be rationally taken into consideration. Right now, humanity would not be able to prosper in economical or cultural isolation, so it had to work with the aliens. In the end, as far as Miranda was concerned, the only thing that mattered was human power, regardless of whether it was won with or against alien species.

And if they had to use brainless xenophobes as tools to that end, then Miranda would work with them, all personal antipathies aside. In fact, if she had to use naive idiots who had tried to sabotage human efforts in galactic politics as tools, she would do that, too. That was why she was here, what there was to discuss. In the end, with the right means, everything and everybody could be used as a tool. Including herself.

The Illusive Man drew from his cigar and then exhaled the smoke. "Shepard has left the Citadel," he simply announced. That was typical for him: Leading with very few words.

"We know his flight plan," Miranda replied. That was another example of his leadership style. She had to report to him because the agents under her command had found out, but most likely the Illusive Man already had been briefed on that fact. Within Cerberus the right hand never knew what the left hand was doing. Only the Illusive Man himself knew everything. "The Traverse, the Terminus... he'll pass through dangerous territories."

Kai Leng grinned. It was a not a pleasant sight. "Perfect territory for an ambush."

Miranda refrained from making a grimace. _His __solution __to __everything__. _"We'll protect him, not kill him."

The grin remained on Kai Leng's face. He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, this I gotta hear."

Miranda glanced to the Illusive Man. He only ever so slightly moved his head, but Miranda knew it was a nod, so she explained: "Fifth Fleet wouldn't have been able to do anything against Sovereign if it wasn't for him. So far, he's the only person who has managed to kill a Reaper. That makes him too valuable to hate. So this meeting is about keeping him alive."

"Valuable. But dangerous," Kai argued. "His actions against Cerberus and the Alliance have left us all weakened."

It was typical for him to take everything so personal. This was not an efficient approach, as far as Miranda was concerned."Yes. But In the end, Shepard did everything right. He saved the Citadel, but left the Council to die. Perfect for humanity."

"That never was his intention," Kai said.

"Of course not," Miranda conceded. "But Cerberus doesn't expect ideological correctness. We only care for the right outcomes. "

"Right now, humanity's position in the galaxy is stronger than ever," the Illusive Man agreed.

"We'll see about that," Kai Leng continued to argue. He had no problems of contradicting even Cerberus' leader. In the end, though, he always obeyed his orders no matter what. That was the only reason why his behaviour was not suicidal. "Shepard picked Goyle as the Alliance's Councillor. Goyle! She won't just accept Alliance orders. And all that over what happened to a bunch of children nearly two decades ago."

Miranda suppressed a grimace. Such callousness was normal for Kai Leng. Even though she never had been to BAaT, the whole issue was very close to home for her. Still, what Shepard had done was nothing short of sabotaging human efforts in the galaxy. The program had been necessary. The only reason humanity had become so respected so fast on the galactic stage was its independence, the ability to do and figure out everything on its own without the need to rely on the Citadel. Even only the smallest hints of dependence would have damaged that reputation. The matter of fact was that BAaT, no matter how tragic, had been just plain necessary, and idealistic idiots like Shepard would never comprehend that.

"Shepard is... unpredictable," the Illusive Man admitted. "But we have worked with loose cannons before."

"He's the Hero of the Citadel," Miranda agreed. "A bloody icon. The Council will never accept Cerberus' help, no matter what humanity has accomplished. Shepard, though... they'll listen to him."

"All too true. Just like they listened to him when he told them to go against us," Kai mocked. "We're hunted in every corner of the galaxy due to that mess with the rachni."

"He's our enemy now," The Illusive Man said calmly and inhaled again from his cigar, "but that can change. We have a common enemy now."

"You might learn that Shepard doesn't hold to the 'enemy of my enemy' maxim," Kai argued. "He actively went against the Alliance while Saren was the bigger enemy. "

"And yet he pulled it off," the Illusive Man stated. "Saren is defeated."

"And the Alliance damaged," Kai said. He had become gradually less cocky and more grumbling in the argument. It seemed he really did not like Shepard, and Miranda suspected it went beyond the arguments he presented here.

"We have greater problems than that," she argued. "The Reapers are out there. We have to stop them, no matter any potential damage to ourselves."

"Cerberus is the guardian of humanity," the Illusive Man agreed. "We have to act accordingly."

_Now __we__'__re __finally __getting __to __the __core __of __the __issue__. _"But if we lose Shepard in this, humanity might well follow," Miranda said.

The Illusive Man squeezed out his cigar. "Then see to it that we don't lose him," he ordered. His tone made it almost sound like a suggestion.

"Shepard with a Cerberus guardian angel?" Kai mocked and grinned again. "I don't think he'll appreciate that."

"You will stay your hand," the Illusive Man ordered, and this time it was an obvious, clear and direct order. "Miranda, you know what you have to do."

She nodded, and without a further word left. After that expressive order she had no doubt Kai Leng would indeed stay quiet, and she could do her job.

…...

Ten people, together in just five separate rooms for two weeks now. There was murder in the air. And Miranda knew that she was the most hated person aboard. Nobody dared to actually say anything, of course, not to her and not among each other. After all, her watchful eyes were everywhere, either in person or via the various bugs aboard. But then, nobody needed to say anything. It was in their looks, in their short cut replies to her, in their general tension. Miranda drove the crew on, and they hated her for that.

She was okay with that. It was another thing she already was used to and the mission required it: She acted as commanding officer of a Cerberus corvette, a small ship with a ten man crew barely large enough for a FTL drive. Bedroom, toilet, cockpit, engine room and a very small cargo bay, that was the entirety of the ship. Its armament consisted of a single light ship gun, and its FTL drive made it a snail compared to real military ships. However, on the other hand it was cheap and, more importantly, very easy to hide. It was too small for stealth capacities, of course, but small enough that all systems could easily be turned off, which made the ship pretty much invisible, if immobile.

There was no way that a pocket warship like this could follow the _Normandy_ anywhere at all. The frigate was faster, more powerful and even better at hiding, too. Fortunately, there was no need to. Chasing behind the _Normandy_ would have been the primitive method anyway. Miranda would have done that, too, if it had been necessary, but it was not. This was not the method Cerberus usually used. Instead, Miranda simply knew where Shepard was taking his ship. After all, there were a lot of new people on that important vessel right now. Too many for him or Admiral Hackett to check everybody's background.

So far, not even Shepard's quarian tech wizard had been able to detect anything. Maybe she was not quite as good as the outstanding reputation she had won among those in the know. Still, Miranda knew she had to be courted and if necessary saved, too, just like Shepard. The Spectre would be difficult to control. Having his girlfriend as a means for that would be invaluable. The media of course only had some vague, unsubstantiated rumours about that. Government friendly media would repeat the question of whether Shepard _possibly_ had a relationship with a quarian curiously often, considering how few actual proof they had, while more critical outlets would stress just that, that it was all just rumourmongering. Most likely, the speculation would eventually be dismissed as idle chatter by most people due to a lack of proof, unless Sheapard did something stupid. However, Cerberus knew better, and already had long before getting their new source of information. And Miranda did not judge. She merely considered how to use that fact.

However, clearly, the focus of her and her crew's efforts was Shepard himself. He was probably safer in his ultramodern warship than Miranda in her fragile mini ship, but then he probably was also more valuable to the fight against the Reapers than she was. So her task was to be a backup of sorts: Should Shepard ever get into trouble, he would have hidden reserves. Because humanity simply could not afford to lose him. His behaviour was problematic, his politcial stances were idiotic and his actions had often been outright sabotage of humanity - and yet, _against __the __Reapers_, he simply was needed.

A wave of pain hit her head out of sudden. She waved for a bit, but otherwise could hide it from the crew. Her implant was acting up again. At times she felt like it always did at the worst possible times, but rationally she knew that was just confirmation bias. Discretely, she took a dose of the pain killers she always had with her and hoped her body would not build up a tolerance to these ones as fas as to the last ones. It was almost a philosophical lesson: Power came with costs. And switching implants, thus reducing her biotic power, was unacceptable for Miranda, even setting aside the risks of such surgery. And thus pain killers were her constant companion. When she had her headache attack under control again, she noticed a certain tension on the bridge. Everybody was looking on their instruments.

"Large energy spike detected," this shift's sensor and communication specialist reported: Liz Kambwili, an African woman whose voice was always icily cold when she spoke with Miranda. She did not show any more overt signs of hostility, but she also never once had showed her friendly side to her superior. Miranda almost admired her consistency and determination. "Must have been a FTL movement. It ended abruptly, no further readings on the sensors."

"So the _Normandy_ has finally arrived," Miranda muttered. _And __it__'__s __super __perfect __stealth __won__'__t __be __of __any __use __against __us__. __We __can__'__t __track __you__, __Shepard__, __but __we __know __where __you __are__. _Unfortunately, that was not the end of their watch. Now they would have to watch either for Shepard getting into trouble or, more likely, jumping out of system again. And there was nothing worse to get a headache attack subdued than boredom. "Prepare for transistion to the next system," Miranda ordered. At least they knew where he was going, and preparing matters over and over again at least gave her and the crew something to do.

"Preparing course, aye," Ernesto Maldonado confirmed. The Latin American man was this shift's navigator and tactical specialist.

Miranda stifled a sigh. _Yet __more __waiting__. _She was just about to start pacing, when Kambwili spoke up again: "Picking up another vessel. It's huge... unknown configuration. It matches no known ship type."

In an instant, Miranda was at the sensor array's graphical interface. She narrowed her eyes. The ship certainly did not fit to any officially known species in Citadel space or beyond. However, she was privy to a bit more information than the crew and thus she had a pretty good idea who owned the ship. Cerberus always looked out for _every_ potential threat to humanity, and Terminus legends about the Collectors had been going on for centuries, creating enough interstellar folklore for Cerberus to get a sufficiently good picture of them. _However__, __to __meet __them __here__, __on __this __side __of __the __Omega__ 4 __relay__..._ "Battle stations!" Miranda ordered.

The huge Collector ship darted through space. It apparently had a clear aim. And indeed: Following its trajectory, the corvette's sensors could spot the _Normandy__._ The Alliance vessel was already beginning to fly evasive manoeuvres, but to no avail. The Collectors fired, and while the _Normandy__'__s _superb pilot kept his ship out of the firing line for an amazing time, eventually their energy ray hit the frigate. Immediately, explosions shook the ship.

Miranda remained entirely calm while her mind raced to analyze the situation. There was no need to get panicked. If the enemy ship could detect the _Normandy_ even while she was in stealth, then most likely they could also detect Miranda's corvette. However, they plainly were not the aim. Thus, she could rationally analyse the situation and intervene when necessary. So far it would be foolish to do anything. If the corvette were to become active, the Collectors would swat it like a fly.

"_Normandy_ is starting to launch lifepods," Kambwili announced. Shepard was apparently reacting quickly, but then, it probably was clear to everybody that the ship was lost. Miranda just hoped that he was in one of the pods.

Several anxious minutes passed by. The Collector vessel eventually stopped firing and remained at some distance to the _Normandy__. _By that point, though, the frigate was already reduced to a complete wreckage and fires raged on every deck. Miranda burned to check the lifepods for signs of Shepard, but she did not dare move while the Collector ship was still nearby. Nobody would be helped if they were to be killed alongside him.

Still, patience had never been one of Miranda's virtues and especially not now. She waited, but she hated it. Watching helplessly as the whole tragedy unfolded made her frustrated. She would not do any stupid acts of desperation, but she was very tempted. The temples of her head pulsed and ached. More minutes of inactivity passed by... until things got even worse. "Enemy vessel coming around for another attack on the _Normandy_," Maldonado announced.

Again the Collectors' ray of death hit the _Normandy_, and again explosions tore up what was left of the ship. Then Kambwili spoke up again: "Receiving a radio transmission. It's an open call." That was stupid. An open call while the enemy was nearby and could listen in?

"_I __got __Joker__. __Entering __the __escape __pod__..._" Miranda froze. That was Shepard's voice. _He__'__s __still __on __the __ship__!_ To her shock, the sound of an explosion could be heard on the radio call, and Shepard's voice: _"__Ugh__."_ He sounded pained. A moment later there was another voice. Miranda recognized as belonging to Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, which fit to what Shepard had said. _"__No__, __don__'__t __do __this __to __us__, __Shepard__. __Don__'__t__... __No__!" _And finally a mechanical sound: The lifepod had been launched. The radio call went on, but it only sent Moreau's lamentations now. Not a single sign of Shepard.

Miranda felt as if her heart froze to ice. It seemed her mission to watch over Shepard had already now ended in failure. With their work done, the Collector ship jumped to FTL. It left behind the burning wreckage of what had used to be an Alliance frigate, which slowly descended to a nearby planet, and several lifepods. At least the Collectors had not targeted those. However, as Shepard had not made into a lifepod it did not matter. An awkward silence lasted on the corvette's cockpit.

Finally, Kambwili spoke up again. Without looking up from her instruments she said: "I'm picking up a supernumerary emergency signal."

"Supernumerary?" Miranda asked.

"Every lifepod is sending a signal on all frequencies," Kambwili explained. "But there's an additional one. Very weak, and very near the ship." She turned around and looked Miranda straight into the face. All iciness vanished from her voice. "Ma'am, I think it's emitting from a space suit."

Miranda understood. _Shepard__!_ "Follow that signal. Get us into position." There was still hope after all, it seemed.

The wreck of the _Normandy__, _pulled along by gravity, was already beginning to tumble down into a planetary atmosphere, and so was the nearby emergency signal. Fortunately, the corvette was constructed for both space and atmospheric conditions. However, it was clear that they had to hurry. A lifepod would survive atmospheric entry. A space suit probably not. Like a hawk, the corvette swooped down onto the expanding wreckage field. Somewhere there was Shepard, somewhere between the _Normandy_ at its centre and an ever increasing array of loose parts flowing out of the nearly completely destroyed ship. And Miranda was determined to find and save him. _No __matter __the __co__... -_

A rumble went through the corvette. "We're hit!" Maldonado announced.

"Where did that come from?" Miranda asked aggressively. It could not have been the Collectors. Had it been their ray of death the corvette would already be destroyed.

"Tracing back projectile trajectory... I have it on the sensors," Maldonado reported. "It's another corvette. Bigger than us. Probably better armed than us." He paused for a bit. "And in a better tactical position. They can chase us."

_What __the __hell__? _Miranda had no idea where another armed corvette could come from. If it was just such a small ship it could not have followed the _Normandy_, and it appeared suicidal to attempt to follow the Collectors. So it must have been in hiding already, too. Yet it could not just be pirates. Pirates would not risk entering an atmosphere and start combat when there were equally juicy targets undefended in open space. So there was only one conclusion: There was another faction in all of this, one equally powerful and well informed as Cerberus. And they had Miranda and her crew at a disadvantage.

"We must retrieve Shepard!" she declared. "No matter the cost. Keep our course!"

However, keeping the course among all the wreckage parts while under fire was easier ordered than done. Flying evasive manoeuvres was practically impossible, but even without them the corvette would always come off course.

"Kinetic barriers down!" Maldonado reported.

_And__ we __haven__'__t __come __any __closer __to __Shepard__'__s __position__. _There was no sense in dying alongside him. The mission was a failure and there was no reason to make it a total failure. Miranda would not senselessly waste valuable Cerberus resources, including herself, just to save her honour or something like that. "We're getting out of here. Set the quickest course out of the wreckage field, and then immediately go to FTL!"

_Without __Shepard__, __Cerberus __is __really __all __that__'__s __left __to __defend __humanity __from __the __Reapers __now__. __And __even __we __may __not be enough..._

000000

Traveling on a regular charter flight route made Rentola twitchy. Most likely the numerous asari and two or three turians around him would not notice. To most races in the galaxies, all salarians, with their heightened metabolism and never ceasing activity, were twitchy all the time. Still, he could not help but to think about how his nervousness could make everything even worse.

This would never have happened in the STG. In the fact, there had been one incident where his entire STG regiment had infiltrated a planet by using a standard charter flight. It had taken all of Kirrahe's organization skills, all of Surraven's skills at forgery and all of Rentola's calmness, and even then, their cover would not have survived if not one of their regiment had begun to spin a wild tale out of nothing, which had left the officials on the turian colony world confused. Later, after the conclusion of their mission on Tuchanka he had left the STG... _Mordin__. __That __was __his __name__._ His talk really did dazzle absolutely everybody.

But that was in the past. Kirrahe was dead, Surraven too physically and emotionally scarred to remain serving, and their regiment had been disbanded after the heavy losses suffered on Virmire. The mission had been a success, and Rentola supposed that destroying a potential cure to the genophage and destroying Saren's then main facility had been worth a single STG regiment. However, he had doubted that he would fit into another unit, and had hence quit the STG all together. Among the salarians that was easy enough. They were no turians or humans; they had no concept of fixed service times or desertion in peace time. Their military units were too unimportant, their navy even well below the Farixen limit and more importantly their lives were simply too short to waste and their interests too quickly changing.

So now, Rentola had to do things all by himself. And he had no experience in that. And he just _knew_ that eventually the hammer had to fall. He already had survived Virmire, and had probably used up all his luck there. So he was sure the weapons he smuggled would be discovered or that his false identity would be blown up or something like this. However, even if eventual failure was inevitable, then until then he had at least one more thing to do: Helping Commander... _no, Spectre _Shepard. The STG had been abuzz with news, reports and rumours about him. His action had turned the Alliance upside down, and then he ended up as Hero of the Citadel, so of course he was a focus of STG 'fact finding'. Worryingly, it appeared that at least two members of the new _Normandy_ crew were informers. This of course had practically been inevitable. There were many forces out there in the galaxy working only in the shadows, far removed from any government or Council control, and of course they would be interested in STG was as well. However, so far they only knew _that_ there were spies aboard the _Normandy_, not who they were or whom they worked for. And that was unacceptable to Rentola. He still owed Shepard for Virmire. Without the Spectre the mission there, bloody as it was, would never have ended in success. So he was determined to identify the spies and to protect Shepard from afar.

Thus he was on his flight to Illium. An asari world of the seventh asari settlement wave, adjunct to Asari Republics territory - but legally not part of the Republics or Citadel space itself, and thus nominally part of the Terminus Systems. An exotic mix of asari culture and the Terminus Systems' predatory tendencies. Not that Illium was lawless. There were no warlords there and no open conflicts. And yet it could be just as deadly as any Terminus world. Its cut-throat businesses and the dark and deep back alleys of its buzzing cities were no less dangerous then the battlefields of Korlus or Garvug. It was just that Illium maintained a thin veneer of legality, culture and sophistication.

The passenger ship began landing on the planet. Apparently, there was somebody here that could help Rentola in identifying those spies. At least, that had been the rumour in the STG before he had left. The problem was identifying _that_ person in turn among all those huge, sparkling towers of Nos Astra, Illium's planetary capital, that came now into sight. And they were a dazzling sight indeed. Even Rentola's dark mood was lifted at least for a little while. He knew this was just the shiny surface to a rotten society, but it was still an amazing scenery. And he knew he would have enough time to admire it. Trying to find his contact too quickly could get both of them killed. It would probably have to be a gradual establishment of contact over days, even though that could be an eternity for a salarian.

He packed his luggage, did his best not to look suspicious and left the ship. It was evening in Nos Astra, but still very hot. In fact, given Illium's climate conditions, the night was the main time of activity in many planetary regions. Rentola decided that he would need a drink, and checking out the city's various establishments was probably no bad way of making contacts, anyway. Following the logic of that thought, he entered the smallest, dirtiest hole in a wall he could find within an hour. Of course, since this was still a civilized asari world, such terms were relative. Not that there were no dangerous underworld bars here. But from all Rentola knew, even those would always maintain an illusion of cleanliness. You could still get killed there, but they would first drag you to backyard so as to not soil the bar with blood.

The bar Rentola had entered contained nothing more than the counter and a small holovid player above the door. He sat down, ordered a fermented drink and began watching the other people in the bar. They all were asari, but few had the race's usual grace about them. He assumed most of them were street thugs and some were maybe even mercenaries. He doubted there was anything of value that could be learnt here. He considered downing his drink in one go and then leaving again, when the holovid caught his attention.

Over stock footage of the _Normandy__, _a reporter announced: "_..__it __is __still __unclear __what __exactly __the _Normandy _was __doing __in __the __Omega __Nebula__, __and __what __it __discovered __there__. __While __most __crew __members __survived __its __destruction__, __it __appears __Jonathan __Shepard__, __Council __Spectre__, __is __among __the __casualties__. __This __will __no __doubt __add __to __the __already u__nstable __political __situation __in__..."_

Rentola froze. The _Normandy _destroyed, Shepard dead? He watched the holo for some more minutes. _Something_ had ambushed the Spectre, though nobody was sure yet what exactly. Rentola had wanted to protect him, but now it seemed he had come too late. Without touching his drink again, Rentola hastened outside. There was no sense anymore in gradually building up contacts and doing all the espionage stuff. Now, a more direct approach was necessary. Maybe he could still _avenge_ Shepard, at least.

…...

The omnipresent lights that illuminated the business district of Nos Astra were gone in this part of the town. The streets were only dimly lit, and instead of the sleek and elegant business towers unsightly housing projects rose to both sides of them. This was Nos Astra's nasty underbelly, and this was were Rentola would meet his contact. He had left a trail of blood to find out where he was. Even the biotic powers of asari thugs were no match for STG training. Of course, this would soon catch up to him. He did not have much time. Fortunately, nobody dared to bother him. He had seen this in other run-down city quarters on other missions before: People living in such areas just _had _to develop the right instincts to stay out of trouble if they were to survive, so they usually did not meddle into other people's business. Also, fortunately, the electronic locks on the doors here were a joke. He got into the housing tower he was pointed to with no problem at all.

There were some people in the entrance area. Asari who eyed him with suspicion. He ignored them and went straight for the vac-tubes. His target was living on the uppermost floor, or so he had been told. When he arrived there, Rentola looked around, saw nobody on this level, and began to hack the target's door. This was vastly more difficult than the house lock had been. The door's electronic lock was superb. Still, in the end, it was no match for Rentola's skills. The door went open...

...and revealed a scene of devastation. Splintered furniture, smashed electronics, household items littered everywhere. Two corners of the room had what looked like destroyed automatic guns. Rentola drew his gun and jumped into action. Something had happened here. He pressed his back against a wall, gun held high, looked around and then peered through an open door to the next room. It was without windows and without light. Rentola could only see some shades. But he also _heard_ something. A muffled sound.

He activated his omni-tool's flashlight, jumped into the room, looked around again, aimed his weapon everywhere. Only after he had made sure there was no enemy present did he look at the source of the sounds: A salarian, bound, gagged and bleeding. Going by the puddle of green liquid around him bleeding to death, most likely. In an instant, Rentola was at his side. He unbound and ungagged him and tried to apply medi-gel. However, it was as he had feared: He had come too late, the medi-gel could not heal all the major injuries the salarian had suffered.

And he knew so as well. "No use..." he said, coughing up more blood. "Listen. The Shadow Broker. He got Shepard."

"The _Normandy_ was destroyed by the Shadow Broker's forces?" Rentola asked. His mind immediately disassociated itself from the misery of the scene and switched to pure fact finding. He was not even surprised that the Broker would have such powerful forces.

"No, no," the salarian anwered. "His allies. Destroyed _Normandy_. But he knew about attack. Planned. Has Shepard's body. In Cryo. Taken it to Omega. Wants to sell it."

"Sell it?" Rentola asked. By now he was totally ignoring that his conversation partner was near death. "To whom?"

"Uncertain," the salarian answered. "But heard rumours. They want to use Shepard's body. The enemy... like Saren... ah..." The salarian's body slumped down. Then he bolted up once more. "Must - save him!" With that he collapsed on the floor. Rentola did not need to check to know he was dead.

_The __enemy__? __The __enemy __behind __Saren__... __Reapers__!_ The Reapers wanted Shepard's body for their own purposes? But even according to Shepard's own theories Sovereign had been the Reaper vanguard. There should currently be no other in the galaxy. Still, the mere possibility of it was terrifying. _Omega__... _he had to go there. As soon as possible. He would have some time, probably. The Shadow Broker loved to haggle, even with his 'allies'. And his allies were always changing rapidly. The STG knew that he and Shepard had actually always been on very good terms. So even with his allies, the Broker would make some big auction about it all, to maximise his profit, and this would take time. So there still was a chance for him to go to Omega and retrieve Shepard's body. _Yes__. __New __mission __aim__. __Retrieve __Shepard__'__s __body__. _

Salarian minds were quicker than the minds of asari, turians or humans, nevermind elcor or Keepers. That did not mean they were more intelligent, but rather that they were able to adapt to new situations more quickly. Also, it meant they went through emotional processes far quicker than other races. That was why Rentola was able to already formulate new plans more or less immediately after having gotten the shocking news. Still, even salarians were just organics. Even they still had emotions that could distract them. So Rentola was actually somewhat shaken, and he was in a hurry to leave the scene. After all he had thousands things to do: Organize a transport to Omega, prepare for such a journey, read up on the Shadow Broker - he was so lost in thought that he forgot his usual precautions. Inattentively, he left the building and did not notice anything on the street - until the bullet hit him.

His shoulder burst into pain. _Sniper__! _he realized. Once again, his instincts took over. He stumbled along the residential tower's front and dove across its corner. He doubted the enemy, whoever it was, would use only a sniper. In this bad part of the town, they most likely could afford to openly send thugs to make sure he would be dead. Clutching his shoulder, he ran towards the nearest bush, an assortment of several huge ferns. Hopefully, they would provide him with cover. _Besides__, __basics __in __fighting __biotics__: __Surround __yourself __with __loose __material__. __If __they __can__'__t __aim __they __will __hit __it__, __instead __of __you__. _

He heard people running. The sound came toward him. He hoped his aim would still be good enough, despite his shoulder. And when he saw asari running by, he fired. Most likely it were the enemy's enforcers, and if not... Rentola preferred not to think about it. He had to get out of the situation, get the information about Shepard's body out. This had precedence. He had to suvive, the information had to survive. By any means necessary.

The asari group stopped and sought cover. A firefight erupted. The asari obviously still had no idea just where Rentola had placed himself under the farn. All of their shots missed, while he took out one after the next. Finally, he shot down the last of the thugs - but not before a lucky stray bullet did hit him. First the shoulder, now his knee. It was clear, and Rentola's quick working salarian mind immediately realized that, that there was no way he could go to Omega fast enough with those injuries. He had to get the information out.

He crawled to the nearest public extranet access point. Fortunately, he knew whom to contact, and he had her Instant Messaging adress. Her face appeared on the screen, a typical, blue asari face. When she saw him in his bloodied state she looked shocked, but she did not end the call. "Listen," Rentola croaked. "You must save Shepard's body..."

She still looked shocked, but Liara listened.

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**Nothing new so far, just setting the scene. And yes, I know 'prologue' literally means 'foreword', despite using both.  
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	3. Ch1: Garrus

**I decided that, as a test, I'll try to go for shorter chapters and more frequent updates. So, consider this and the next chapter, which were written together and then split, as a sort of experiment, and please tell me which way you would prefer.**

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Garrus knew life was fragile. All turians were taught that. Their homeworld was a scorched, deadly place, and their focus on the military only strengthened that attitude . All turians were drafted at age fifteen to go to the army, and they were all taught that soldiers could die. Yet, the death he had witnessed some hours ago, via an open radio call, had been different: Jonathan Shepard. Formerly Lieutenant Commander of the Alliance Navy and the first human Spectre. The Hero of Elysium. The Saviour of Terra Nova. And again the Hero at the Battle of the Citadel. In fact, even though few knew that, he had become the saviour of the entire galaxy when he had prevented Saren from opening the Citadel relay. The Alliance's hero and the Alliance's bane, who had single-handedly thrown the politics of his species into a disarray. Soldiers were replaceable. Such a person was not.

And now he was gone. The person they all had put all their hopes in to defeat the Reapers. The person who could understand Garrus' outlook on life better than most, his zealotry for justice and retribution, despite the initial disagreements. The turian really did not know what would happen now. For hours already the lifepods had drifted through open space, and Garrus was left alone with his thoughts. There were of course also other people in the lifepod, humans, members of the crew. But none of them spoke. Before the departure of the _Normandy_ from the Citadel, the crew had been hand picked from Shepard loyalists. They all had risked their future career in the navy by accepting that assignment. And now they were left with nothing.

As was Garrus. He could not go back to C-Sec and his military career before had been a failure. He had thought he would dedicate himself to fighting the Reapers under Shepard's command, but apparently this was not to be, either. And he had a lot of time to think about it. Without Shepard, would he just slid back into being a grumpy turian, unsatisfied with everything and yet still following orders? Would he have anything to do at all, any purpose at all? _What __will __I _do _now__? _All he knew for sure was that he would miss a friend. His thoughts went on in ever narrower circles, a maelstrom of depression. Thoughts about what he would do, about Shepard's death, about who would even be left to counter the Reaper threat. He was so lost in his grief that he did not even notice when the lifepod's sensors picked something up. Only when the other people in the pod began to chatter excitedly did he notice it: A ship was nearing. An Alliance cruiser, identifying itself as the _SSV __Hangzhou_. They were saved.

One after the other the lifepods docked and its passengers were released. Garrus, the only non-human in his pod, received some pretty hostile glances by the cruisers' crew. However, truth be told, they did not seem to treat the human _Normandy_ crew much better. Tension was in the air. Garrus was a bit shocked. This was not how he had imagined their rescue. This was not like a ship crew being rescued by their own navy. This was almost like taking on castaways of a hostile power. _Which __in __a __way __the _Normandy _was __under __Shepard__'__s __command__, __all __by __herself, _Garrus realized. Of course, that would be over now.

The _Normandy _crew was led to the _Hangzhou__'__s_ mess, one group after the next. It was a heavy cruiser, and hence the mess area was large enough to hold all the survivors. Garrus was shocked when he saw Tali appearing. He had mused so much about his sorrows that he had all forgotten about her, how terrible it was for her. And she looked horrible. Her view was cast straight down and she was just apathetically shuffling forward, barely raising her feet while doing so. It looked like nothing that was happening around her was mattering to her. He went to her and addressed her, but she did not even seem to realize he was there. She just kept her head low and shuffled by him. Shortly afterwards, it was the same with her and Liara. It was a rather frightening experience.

It was also shocking to see how many people had died in the attack. The _Normandy_ had held a crew of twenty, plus the 'Spectre Entourage' which had completely taken over the role of a marine detachment. When no more further people were led to the mess, of those twenty people regular crew, only eleven were assembled. And the 'Spectre Entourage' was missing the Spectre himself - and also, apparently, Ashley. At least, Garrus could not see her anywhere. Despite the initial mutual distrust between the two that saddened him further.

Finally, somebody addressed them: "I'm Captain Charles Pierce, commanding officer of the SSV _Hangzhou__. _I'm glad to have been able to save you, but saddened by your losses. My condolences. You're in relative safety now, though. We'll get you back to Alliance space." He coughed somewhat awkwardly. "We'll transport you to Outpost Phi-35, where you will be detained for some days until matters have cooled down."

This announcement caused an uproar among the _Normandy_ crew. People demanded to know why, how long the detainment would take, and one also shouted another question: "And what about Williams?"

Garrus head turned around. _Ashley __is __still __alive__? __Then __why __isn__'__t __she __here__?_ Sternly, Pierce answered the question: "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams is in the ship brig, due to the pending accusation of mutiny and desertion against her."

This only made the uproar louder. Pierce began to shout for order, without much effect. Some _Hangzhou_ marines stepped in, and for a moment it looked like it could come to a brawl between the two crews, unevenly matched as they were. However, that escalation did not come. Eventually, the crowd began to settle down again.

"I can assure you, she will be given a fair trial, and all factors will be taken into consideration," Pierce said.

"And what about us?" one of the _Normandy_ crew shouted. "Why will we get locked up at that outpost?"

"You won't get locked up," Pierce answered. "You'll just be given a little time out. Should only take some days, a week tops."

He remained silent at further angry questions, until Liara cut through, with a pleading: "Why? You still haven't said _why__._"

Pierce looked at her, and his demeanour softened a bit. "I'm sorry I have to lay that onto you all as soon as you've come aboard. I know you had a hard time, to put it mildly, but well - orders from above. It's because of Shepard. You all know how widely known and how controversial he had become. Anything in the news involving him will lead to endless debate, even more debate in the Alliance. We can't suppress news of his death, of course, but the top brass wants you out of circulation for a bit, so that the news stories don't get further stroked by interviews and the like. Might even be best for you. The journalists will be like sharks. You'll get some protection from them."

There were some cynical snorts among the _Normandy_ crew, and Garrus could only imagine what Shepard would have said about it - but he understood. Raised as a citizen of the Hierarchy, he understood that superiors acted in ways they deemed necessary to uphold order and public calm. This of course could not excuse each and any action taken by authorities, but keeping the public calm by keeping the surviving _Normandy _crew members from the public eyes for some days, that seemed like a justified decision to Garrus. However, he had no doubt this decision also extended to the Spectre entourage. He was sure the Alliance would be able to make up some legal reason why they could also order them under a house arrest. And while Garrus understood and accepted also that, it was just annoying. And there was Tal to consider. Among all the unrest, she had remained eerily calm, eerily unresponsive to absolutely everything around her. Garrus thought it would be best if she could return to her people as soon as possible. A detainment of her, if only for some days, right after Shepard's death - he feared the effects that might have on her.

However, in the end, all he truly knew was that for the next few days there was nothing he could do, anyway.

…...

The crew's detainment by the Alliance had proven to be absolutely wasted time indeed. As could be expected from a military outpost, Phi-35 was a sterile, mostly subterranean facility on a lifeless, dark rock of a planet far away from its sun. And worse, naturally there had been nothing to be done. The days and hours had seemed to pass at a snail's pace, which left everybody alone with their thoughts. With dark, depressive thoughts about the destruction of the _Normandy_, the end of their journey, the death of Shepard. However, fortunately, that time was over now. The _SSV __Hangzhou_, the same ship that had brought the _Normandy _survivors to Phi-35, was now transporting them to the Citadel. In the meanwhile, the cruiser had been ordered to hold station above the facility, so ironically her crew now was just as frustrated as what remained of the _Normandy__'__s_ crew.

Garrus knew why the Alliance had considered their detainment a necessity and accepted that. It still had been depressing. Now, though, now he finally could look forward to - _what __exactly__, __actually__? _The turian despaired at that question. It was not like he really had a life to return to. The thought of returning to C-Sec filled him with dread. As such, the detainment had only delayed the inevitable realization: That Garrus really did not know what to do next. Or, in general, what to do with his life. It had all seemed so clear under Shepard. Not only what he had to do, but also how to behave. The Spectre had proven to be just as obsessed with justice and even with revenge as Garrus was and yet he had also made it clear to him that always the people had to come first. It had seemed simple, logical, clear. Now, though, now Shepard was gone and Garrus was confused.

He despaired about his future prospects. Yet, he was not as badly hit as Tali was. She, Liara and him had gotten a separate cabin aboard the _Hangzhou _for the passage to the Citadel. Built for eight people, it had been set aside for the non-humans among Shepard's former 'Spectre entourage'. It was not like the sleeping pods aboard the _Normandy_, but it fulfilled its function. And while Garrus and Liara also went outside to see the 'non security relevant' parts of the ship, as they had been allowed to, Tali had remained inside that cabin the entire time. Most of the time she sat on her bed. It was not like she did absolutely nothing: She listened to music, downloaded reading material from the extranet, watched vids. Nonetheless, she sat much too quietly, and rarely talked - in fact, only when she was addressed.

Garrus could not truly fathom how she must feel. He knew about the high value of romance among such races as the asari, quarians and humans, but it was different for turians. Not that they were as cold as salarians. They knew romance quite well, too, and also had tales of great loss and heartbreak. However, in some regards they simply more _pragmatical__. _Or maybe one could also say more jaded and cynical towards the whole concept, even though they had it as well. His father, no doubt, would have held this up as an example of turian discipline and superiority, but now and then Garrus was wondering if the majority of his race were not perhaps missing out with such an attitude. And seeing that there were in fact truly deep turian relationships, or seeing the surprisingly high amount of turian-asari relationships, others of his people apparently thought likewise.

However, of course, such commitment had its risks. Garrus had not exactly thought highly of Tali when they both had come aboard. She was a quarian, and wherever quarians went trouble followed, even if it was not of their own making. Or so he had thought, at least. Now, though, after countless battles they had gone through together, after an epic journey disbelieved by most of the galaxy - now, Garrus wished he could reach out to her and help her. However, he had always been bad at this kind of stuff. And so was Liara, whose nature went straight against the stereotype of sociable asari. Both were actually somewhat socially awkward, and so both did not quite know what to do about Tali.

It was even more awkward when all three of them sat in the cabin and said nothing. After a while, Garrus could not bear this anymore and desperately tried to start a conversation: "So, you'll return to the Migrant Fleet immediately, Tali?" he asked - a stupid question, but at least it did break the silence.

At first, it seemed like the quarian would not say anything at all, but with a delay she answered monotonically: "Yes. I know its current location, and there are shuttle flights in the general area. It shouldn't be too difficult."

Another pause ensued. "And then?" Garrus asked.

"I'll hand over the geth data," Tali answered. "Then I'll pick a ship to stay on. I don't know which. I didn't put much thought into it. I didn't think I would... that I would..." She stopped.

Garrus mentally cursed himself. This had been rather like laying a finger in an open wound, instead of being helpful.

"He would have wanted you to go on," Liara said very quietly.

"I know," Tali answered, barely above a whisper. "And I will." She fell silent again, and Garrus thought that this was it. So far she had always answered questions, but hardly said anything on her own. However, this time she went on: "It's just... I'll go on. No worries about that. But now it will all be duty an necessity and the demands of the Fleet again. I could dream of other things with Jon, but..." She shook her head. "But that's life. People die."

That was a very quarian outlook on life: Bad things happen. Garrus had seen how Tali had dared to dream of more. To see these dreams crushed most likely was a large confirmation of that creed for her. Unlike Garrus, she knew what to do now, but even more so than him it seemed she had nonetheless lost her orientation, at least for now. And with that depressing thought the cabin remained awkwardly quiet for the rest of the flight. Tali, Garrus and Liara were shuttled to the Citadel, and that was the last they saw of the _Hangzhou_ crew.

_And __so __I__'__m __back __on __the __Citadel_. He was still unsure about Tali, but what could he do? She would return to her people, and they most probably would know better how to take care of her. Besides, he realized he would have enough trouble for himself. Before the Normandy had departed the Citadel the last time he had dissolved the small household he had possessed here. For years he had only been living for C-Sec service, without much free time, so there had not been much stuff. However, it meant that for now he would have to go looking for an inn or a cheap hotel. At least for as long as he would need to figure out what to do with...

Garrus abruptly looked up. There was another turian at the shuttle bay. He obviously waited for him. "Father..." Garrus whispered. Liara looked at him surprised, but then led Tali away, so that the two turians would have privacy to speak.

"Welcome back to the Citadel," his father said. "I hope your wasted time with the humans was a lesson to you."

_Typical __of __him __to __start __like __this__. _"It certainly was a lesson, yes."

"So, any plans what you'll do now?" Garrus' father pressed on. Garrus remained silent and looked away. "I thought so. You had good opportunities at the army, and a good career at C-Sec, you know. Despite your troubles at the end."

"I know," Garrus just answered.

His father's demeanour softened. It was only a small change in the voice, and barely any change at all in his facial expression, but for turians it was quite obvious. "I hope this has cured you of all Spectre romanticism. I talked with Chellick. A most reasonable man and a good turian. Don't worry, Garrus. You can go back to your old post at C-Sec."

"Why..." Garrus began, but then reconsidered. That was very typical of his father, too, arranging his life without any input from him. He was sick of it. Yet, it _was_ his father. In fact, he was his clan head, and that was very important.

There was a reason why the Turian Hierarchy had been necessary. In many ways, turians had a pack mentality, and were very concerned about dominance and submission on a biological level. Before the rise of the Hierarchy, this had led to constant conflict and warfare. The Hierarchy, though, channelled these attitudes by structuring all of turian society into a, well, _hierarchy_. It replaced fights for dominance by detailing in extreme details who would stand above whom. And this went beyond just the citizenship ranks. Turian society also knew other, more informal hierarchies which were however often just as detailed and nearly as cast in stone. And one such hierarchy was the clan. Duty to the clan and clan hierarchy were nearly as important as _the_ Hierarchy and duty to the Hierarchy. And hence it was expected of Garrus to submit to his father.

Garrus felt his shoulders slump, a sign of acceptance of authority. Yet, the thought of returning to C-Sec still horrified him.

"I suppose it's for the best if you take some days vacation," his father went on. "In that time we can clear the details. You should be able to return to work at C-Sec within four or five days."

Garrus growled. It was a quiet growl and very unintentional, nearly automatic, yet his father picked it up and straightened his head's position, a gesture of dominance. Garrus thought about backing down again, but - he had already admitted he was a bad turian. And he was okay with that. Shepard certainly never had had any problems with that. And Shepard had killed a Reaper. No turian could compete with that. So, he took up the challenge in gestures and cues. "No," he said.

"No?" his father repeated calmly, while his body stiffened.

"It's wasteful," Garrus argued. "I'll just get into trouble with Chellick again, and I certainly won't be able to use my talents to the full extent. It's an arrangement that would leave us both worse off."

"So you want to shriek away from duty?" his father asked. "C-Sec is what you've been trained for. It's a very honourable job, the pinnacle of turian service to the Citadel. Now so more than ever is that needed, with humans trying to take over everything here. You must do your part for the Citadel, and for the Hierarchy!"

_And __yet __again__, __typical__. __He __has __to __make __a __grand __thing __out __of __everything__. _"Neither the Citadel nor the Hierarchy really need me," Garrus said. "Yes. I could discharge my duties. But wouldn't it be much more useful if I could use my talents where they're actually needed?"

"You would rather render your talents to other things before the Hierarchy?" his father asked, and it sounded almost menacing.

"Look at the galaxy, father!" Garrus urged. "Look at all the injustices out there and all the threats out there. It doesn't compare to what we get here on the Citadel."

"So, you're still not cured of your romanticism," his father concluded. "This has to stop. I will not see our family disgraced by your foolishness. Returning to your job as quickly as possible is the best way for you to regain your standing. And you know that, I think."

"I do," Garrus conceded. It was certainly true. And, like a good turian, he felt some duty to uphold his family's good name, so he hesitated. However, there was so much more at stake: "But what does this duty still matter if the entire galaxy may be threatened? The Reapers..."

"The Reapers!" his father spat out. "A fancy tale made up by the humans, to cover their embarrassing record against the geth in the New Eden War. You can't seriously tell me you believe in that. That's just some pretext for your dreams of adventure."

Garrus froze. He had been with Shepard through nearly everything. He had seen how the Alliance's Fifth Fleet had torn Sovereign to shreds, and he knew it had not just been a geth dreadnought. So what his father said to him seemed like pure wilful ignorance to him. Still, it was his father... then again, he himself _was_ no good turian. He even admitted that to himself now. So he answered: "You may disbelieve it. However, I won't have you dictating my life."

Now his father growled, openly and loudly. In the bad old days before the Hierarchy, this would have been a challenge. But those days were over a millennium past. "You'd turn your back to your clan?" he asked.

"I don't like to," Garrus said, "but if you force me I will have to."

"You've been with the humans for too long," his father accused him. "You sound just like them. Whining about what you want instead of simply doing your spirits damned duty!"

"Duty... is a fine ideal," Garrus answered. "But sometimes you have to go beyond it. I'd be wasted at C-Sec, and C-Sec would waste a good personnel post at me." His voice got louder. "I won't spend the rest of my life in such a situation."

"And you think you can decide that alone?" his father asked aggressively.

"Watch me!" Garrus answered and walked off.

In ancient times, this would have provoked a fight for sure, and even nowadays such an extremely rude gesture, especially to somebody standing above oneself, would lead to one most of the time. As a rule, turian society still was very accepting of violence, unless it would lead to lasting harm. However, Garrus knew his father was way too straight laced for that. His father deeply believed in the Hierarchy and what it stood for. He believed in hierarchies over dominance quarrels. But that meant he did not know what to do when such a hierarchical relationship were to break down.

Garrus on his part would never have dreamed to do such a thing before. However, he was fed up. There was only so much his clan, in the person of his father, could ask of him. Especially seeing how indeed the entire galaxy was threatened. He actually doubted he could do something about that. Not with Shepard dead. But he would be damned if he just sat on his ass here on the Citadel while the entire galaxy could be gone in a few years. Maybe even a few months. He did not quite know yet what _exactly_ to do, but he knew that there was too few time remaining to spend it with daily drudgery. There were more worthwhile causes in the galaxy than C-Sec.

Angrily, he stomped through the Citadel's corridors, without a clear aim in mind. He had to get his head free. He knew he would be utterly unable to think about what to do with his life if he was occupied with the business with his father. Thus he walked through the wards, took turns at random and did not pay attention to his surroundings. Thus he came ever deeper into the poorer parts of the Wards. Places with hardly any illumination, with only some shadows hushing through poorly maintained housing units and with dirt and garbage everywhere.

Garrus knew this had been the state of affairs for over a millennium. Basically ever since the asari and salarians had first found the station, there also had been poverty on it, and with it crime. It had simply always been accepted as a fact of life. While the Council celebrated the galactic order, peace and prosperity it had allegedly brought to everybody, large parts of their own station existed in misery. It was exactly this hypocrisy that made Garrus certain he did not want to return to C-Sec. There had to be more he could do. Something more direct. Maybe he could not do anything about the Reapers, but that did not mean he had to do nothing. Surely in this vast galaxy there would be a way to fight such injustices better, more directly, with less hypocrisy than C-Sec did.

Still angry by the argument with his father and by what he was seeing Garrus entered the nearest cheap inn he could see and rented a room. It was not exactly a safe region of the Citadel, but after having faced husks, geth and pirates he was pretty sure he could handle just about everything that could come up. He laid down on the bed in his room and began to watch the holovid. The news channels, in particular, which brought word from all over the galaxy. And yet, it was always the same; Disasters, military tensions, economical trouble, crime. And injustices, so many injustices, all the galaxy over. The piracy on Omega, the mindlessness of the Turian Hierarchy, the greed of the Systems Alliance, the brutality of the Batarian Hegemony.

It made Garrus determined to do _something__._ Something _somewhere_ in this messed up galaxy.


	4. Ch2: Tali

The wide docking bay was only slowly filling up with people. The flight Tali would take did not exactly lead to a very popular region of the galaxy. For her, that was all right. She did not want too much company, anyway. Ideally, she wanted to shut the entire galaxy out, but unfortunately that was not possible.

She could not exactly tell how many days had passed since the destruction of the _Normandy_ without looking on her omni-tool's calendar. Time seemed to have passed in a grey blur. She had done what she had been told to, she had eaten, she had slept. But all that had been very mechanical. Even her return to the Flotilla now was no different. There had never been any doubt that she would return, of course. However, right now she would only take the shuttle because there was nothing else she could do and because it was expected of her. She did not actually think about what to do, what she could do, or what her return would be like. She just went through the motions.

It had been different with Shepard, of course. When she had been with him, when even her foolish dream of a relationship with him had been fulfilled... she had thought she could take on the whole galaxy. She had dared to think of doing more than just what is necessary and what is expected. And then the galaxy had shown her how it really worked. In the end, it had proven to be a short-lived dream and an unrealistic dream. She really should have known better, as a quarian. Her people knew about the fragility of live, and knew that even if one survives, they never get what they deserve, for good or for bad. Shepard's death had been an ultimate reconfirmation of that fact for her.

She missed him and she mourned him, and she knew she would for a long time. It seemed to her nobody, absolutely nobody had understood her and appreciated her as Shepard did. Maybe her mother had, when she was still a child, but that was long, long ago. Even Shala'Raan, who had become a sort of honorary family member and who truly was a caring and warm person, nonetheless always also saw 'potential' or 'utility' in her. And with her father it was even worse. She had always seen that as normal. Everybody on the Fleet also was a resource, after all, and she supposed she had in fact some potential, so why not help it along? But to Shepard she had not been a fleet member, or a somebody to hold up expectations or a quarian, but simply a person. A dearly appreciated, a trusted, a loved person. And how she had loved him. She still did, in fact. She had cared for him, she had shared intimacy with him, she had trusted him. But that all was over now, never to return.

She waited until the shuttle would open up for its passengers. Next to her stood Garrus. _We __two __are __all __that__'__s __left __of __Shepard__'__s __mission__. _Half the crew was dead, the other half re-assigned to various posts, scattered in the Alliance Navy. Wrex was on Tuchanka, Ashley held by the Alliance and Liara was gone - she had suddenly and mysteriously left the Citadel the previous day. Shepard's epic journey, the grand dream to stop the Reapers, their struggles for justice and truth - all reduced to two lonely figures now, standing awkwardly next to each other.

Apparently, that was on Garrus' mind as well. "You would have deserved a bigger send-off."

"Can't be helped," Tali just said unenthusiastically. To have more friends around her before leaving them for good would have been nice, that was true, but it did not really matter now. Nothing really mattered to her right now.

"I suppose not," Garrus conceded. A further awkward pause ensued, until he added: "But at least Liara could have been here. I couldn't find her. And I couldn't reach her on her omni-tool, either. She doesn't return any calls."

"She left," Tali just said.

"Left? The Citadel?" Garrus asked. "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know," Tali answered. "But I checked what flight she took. She left for Omega."

"What would she want there?" Garrus asked surprised.

"I don't know," Tali answered again. And she did not really care, either. In a way, it seemed fitting. Shepard was dead, and everything was breaking apart. Including the squad. "She seemed agitated. Something must have happened. Or she learned of something."

"Omega is a dangerous place," Garrus said. "Full of criminals and other - " He stopped and paused. "Hm. Omega..." he continued after a while. Tali did not pay attention.

"They're opening up the shuttle," she obvserved. "I better should..."

"Wait!" The voice came from behind. Tali turned around and saw Ashley running toward them. When she arrived, she stemmed her hands on her upper legs and panted. "Whew... didn't think I'd make it..."

"Ashley?" Garrus asked. "I thought the Alliance still had you confined."

"Not... anymore," Ashley answered between heavy breaths. "Ah... Goyle... Council Chairwoman Goyle, I should say... she used her influence to get me free. I better shouldn't leave the station, though. As I've understood her, I'm safe here, but I'm in somewhat of a legal limbo..."

"It's some progress, at least," Garrus said.

"Yeah," Ashley agreed. "Took some time, though. Nearly missed you, Tali."

"It's all right," Tali answered unenthusiastically. She was vaguely glad Ashley was here, but even that did not truly reach through her indifference. "We both knew it wasn't your fault. And you did make it."

"Yeah, now I'm here," Ashley answered. "So, finally returning home?"

"Yes," Tali answered monosyllabicly.

Ashley's eyes narrowed and fixated her. "Are you holding up until then?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Tali simply answered again. But then she considered: Ashley did not deserve such curt answers. Tali really did not care about the world around her at the moment, but she could at least say something more to her friends, who did truly seem to be worried. "It's difficult. But Jon was the not the first important person in my life who has died. I don't know just how difficult it will be. But eventually, I think I'll manage. Once I'm back on the Fleet. Home."

"I understand," Ashley said. "You're right, of course, such things take time." Tali knew the ex-marine had some experience in that, too. Her father had not died as early as Tali's mother, but she did have at least a similar experience. "But I do believe Jon's still watching you."

Tali became somewhat unsure. She did not know the specifics, but that sounded like human spirituality, and she did not want to offend Ashley, so she remained quiet.

"He's been too much a goody two shoes to not go to heaven, even with his erratic behaviour," Ashley went on, and smiled sadly. "I guess, what I wanna say is: Just because he has passed on doesn't mean all his ideals are dead, or that your time with him was meaningless." She hesitated. "I'm not good at this deep stuff, but I wanted to tell this to you before you leave for good. Keep up his ideals and fights. He's still watching. He'd want you to be more happy, and to think more of yourself."

That much was probably true. _He __would __have __wanted __me __to __look __out __more __for __myself__. _But the galaxy just did not work that way. Sometimes, individuals had to submit to certain necessities. Shepard had truly believed otherwise, but he was dead now. And Tali had never been a very spiritual person. It was not that she actively disbelieved the quarian faith, she just never had cared much about it. She always had been too practically minded, too concerned with very worldly and material problems. The quarian faith said that at the end of life, a person would join the sacred ancestors. It did not really specify what this meant, only that the ancestors were watching over the quarians. But even if that was true, Shepard had not been quarian, he was hence no ancestor of quarians and hence would not join them. And besides, the whole concept had always seemed suspiciously simplistic to Tali.

In a way, that even had always been the function of quarian faith since the exodus. Before the Geth War, there had been numerous religions just as there had been numerous languages. Nowadays, there was only Khellish, and only the general, vague ancestors cult. It had no priesthood, few rituals and not even a creation myth. It was meant to be vague and all-encompassing, as an unifying factor for all surviving quarians. Most pre-war religions had included ancestor worship in one way or another, so the faith had been reduced to that, to pre-empt any theological disputes over finer points breaking out. And even now, where most pre-war religions were just a faint memory, it was still practical in that regard: The truly spiritual could try to reach commune with the ancestors and the sceptics could at least appreciate the symbolism of the ancestors and the unity the shared rituals brought. Also, the focus on the ancestors and on the sacred homeworld held up a quarian identity and the hope to eventually return to that homeworld.

All in all it was a very practical faith. Tali had always taken part in its rituals and as a child had found some comfort in the ancestor worship when her mother had died. Still, she never had been very spiritual, and had never truly believed its creed. She had always believed in what she could see or her sensors could read, in stuff she could take apart and reassemble again. And of course, human faith and spirituality were even more distant to her. Even the somewhat generalized and watered down version she suspected Ashley to hold. So she was not quite convinced by what the ex-Marine told, and certainly not comforted by it.

Still, Ashley meant well. "I hope you're right," Tali said. "And he would have wanted me to be happy. I'll try to live up to it, but..." She paused. "Thank you, in any case."

Ashley sighed and looked sad in sympathy. "I hope you'll find some peace on the Fleet."

"I will," Tali reassured her, "Eventually."

"And if not, just give us a call and we'll get you out of there," Garrus added. It had obviously been intended as a joke, but it fell flat as such.

"Good bye, Tali," Ashley said. "I hope your life on the Fleet will be good.

"Keelah Selai," Tali answered. "And I hope you two will find something worthwhile to strife for."

"Don't worry about us," Garrus said, "I think I know where I'll go. Just make sure you get okay."

Tali nodded, turned and walked towards her shuttle.

…...

The welcome home ceremony had been grand and by quarian standards nearly bombastic. It seemed like half the crew of the Rayya had attended it. There had been much praise for Tal and much stress on how much the data she had brought home could change matters for the quarian people. There had been long winded speeches, much food and much socialization. Most of the latter without Tali, though. After all, she would leave this ship, her birth place, soon. And besides, she still did not feel very sociable. She enjoyed the event, but most of all she was keenly aware of something missing: the presence of her father. He had not appeared, not even to the one in a lifetime ceremony of his daughter.

While the event was winding down and people were slowly leaving again, she sat with Shala'Raan at one of the tables. Shala was a member of the Admiralty Board, the group of the five most powerful quarians in the fleet. Even though most day to day politics was done by the Conclave, the Admiralty Board retained the final say in everything, and had sole military command, which meant that theoretically it could order every ship of the fleet around. Tali's father was also a member of that board. However, Tali had never seen Shala like him, or like a power broker. For her she had always been her auntie. After her mother had died and her father had grown cold and distant, it had always been her who had been there for Tali's problems, who had probably cared the most for her.

"This was a very nice ceremony," Shala commented. "Kar'Danna's speech was magnificent. Very appropriate for what you have returned home."

"I had luck, auntie," Tali insisted.

"Of course," Shala answered, slightly amused, "That's part of the pilgrimage. But in the end, you excelled, just as we all knew you would."

"Yes. Just as you all expected of me..." Tali said, somewhat more subdued. She remembered what Shepard had said about that.

Shala hesitated. She seemed to sense what was on Tali's mind. Carefully she began: "I know it's not always been easy for you..."

"I am who I am, I know." Tali simply replied. Shepard would have disagree vehemently, but here on the Fleet she simply was who she was, an admiral's daughter, and certain things were expected of her. She had always been annoyed of being judged based on that, but it was Shepard who had made her consider that maybe it even was unfair, even unjust. However, nonetheless, it was a fact: She was who she was, her father's daughter. And thus, after a pause she continued: "Where is father? I haven't seen him."

"Do you think he wanted to miss his daughter's return ceremony?" Shala asked. "But something had come up on very short notice. But don't worry. He said he'd return with a surprise for you."

"There has always been something that has come up with him," Tali stated sadly. "But he is who he is, too. An Admiral of the Board."

"I should talk with him," Shala said. " I know he has duties, but the man is also sometimes so mindless, so inconsiderate about anybody around him... "

_And __that__'__s __why __I __always __liked __her__. _Few people dared to confront her father, and Shala was one of them. Even, if rarely, about Zorah family matters. _Though __she __could __have __said __more __at __times__, __maybe__. __Called __him __out __more__. _It was not like Tali disliked her father, but some more support against his demands during her childhood might have been nice. "He is who he is," she simply repeated.

"You're right," Shala agreed. "And he is an excellent Admiral. One cannot be excellent at everything."

"I suppose it doesn't matter," Tali said. "I'll join a ship crew now and I think I'll only see him on some visits from then on. For better or worse."

"That's how life goes," Shala said. "Or at least it does since our exodus."

"Hopefully my files will..." She was interrupted when she fell a buzz on her arm. There was a new message on her omni-tool "Oh, sorry, I got a call... it's Father! Wants to meet me at one of the docking bays."

"Then let's see what excuses he will have," Shala answered, trying once again to bring some amusement in the conversation. Once again it feel flat.

As the two entered the docking bay, they could see Rael'Zorah, Tali's father, who already waited for them. Next to him stood another quarian Tali knew: Han'Gerrel, Captain of the _Neema_ and another member of the Admiralty Board. As Shala had been a close friend to her mother, Han was a close friend to her father. Her own relationship to him was not as close as to Shala, but he still was well-known to her.

"Welcome back,Tal," her father greeted her. "Congratulations on your success on your pilgrimage. You have done well."

"Thank you, father," Tali answered. However, she was not really enthusiastic about his praise. As always, it was very lacklustre. Even when she had exceeded all expectations beyond the wildest imaginations he seemed determined to give her a feeling that maybe she could have done better.

"These files could really help us retaking our homeworld," Rael continued. "But that means we have to redouble our efforts now. And you will be part of them."

"Congratulations also from me, Tali," Han added. He sounded more cheerful and also somewhat warmer, but Tali supposed that compared to the clinically precise, cold voice of his father everybody would. " You really outdid yourself. And my condolences for the loss of your pilgrimage Captain. Shepard seems to have been a great mean. He was all over the news, and even you were shown now and then. Maybe that will help our reputation. But even that isn't as important as that data."

"Thank you, Admiral." Tali added. "Shepard indeed was a great man." _But __they __don't __know __half about __how __great he was__. He was more important than those files. But it doesn't matter now.  
_

"Normally, I'd say 'Han' would do," Han answered "but as things are... or will be..."

Before Tali could think about what he meant with that, her father went on: "I promised you a surprise, Tali, and I don't think you'll be disappointed. Han has always been a friend of the family, and as it so happens there is a good post vacant on his ship."

"You'll be a high-ranking engineer, Tali," Han added. "It's demanding work and carries much responsibility, but it's also very respected work with a degree of authority."

Tali was confused. "I'll _be_ a high ranking engineer?" she asked nonplussed.

"Everything is already taken care of," Rael answered. "You can get a few days of vacation and then start your new job, at a good post in an already somewhat familar crew."

She understood. Without even consulting her, her father had already chosen a ship for her. Every quarian after returning from the pilgrimage could choose their own crew, but once again she got a 'special treatment'. So she would go to the ship of her father's close friend. Or at least that appeared to be the plan. It seemed things never changed. Still, instinctively she protested: "But I haven't chosen a ship crew yet!"

"You don't need to," Han said. It sounded as if he had meant that reassuring, but it was anything but for Tali.

"But..." she began.

"But what?" Han asked friendly.

Tali remembered. Her talks with Shepard. What he had said about that at all. She could almost hear him, as if they were sitting again in the _Normandy _mess: "_Forget __expectations__, __what __do _you _want__?"_ And for a while, she had considered that. She had even dreamed of simply defying all expectations and going with him. But then the universe had shown her that it did not work that way.

"So everything is arranged?" she asked sadly.

Shala picked up on her mood. She looked to her, then her father and then said: "Are you sure about this, Rael? Maybe you should have informed Tali before."

Tali was thankful Shala was speaking up for her, but noticed that even now, she did not resist against the core issue of this. _What __does __it __matter __just __when __I __get __informed__?_

Rael's view fixated Shala, but then he said: "You're right, Shala. I'm sorry, Tali. I did not mean to shock you like this. But the Fleet has need of you. You did a great service to it, but that only shows that you have the potential to do so much more for it. In the end, every quarian must serve the Fleet."

_But __every _other _quarian __gets __to __choose __their __ship __and __crew__! _Tali remained silent, though. She did not feel like she would have the energy to stand up to her father. Again she could hear Shepard speaking in her head: _"__If __they __place __so __much __higher __expectations __on __you __than __on __anybody __else__, __just __because __of __who __your __father __is__ – __well__, __I__'__d __tell __them __they __can __go __screw __themselves__" _And maybe she should. _Maybe __I __should __tell __Father __what __I __think __of __this__._ However, it just did not work this way. It was a nice idea, but Tali doubted she could really do it. At least not at the moment. Two weeks had passed since the destruction of the _Normandy_ and the galaxy still looked bleak to her.

So, she simply said: "I understand that." And truth be told, the _Neema _was not a bad choice. She knew her captain, and she also already knew some other people there well enough. Hence she would come into a familiar environment and working under an Admiral of the Board would surely increase her career chances. She had no doubt her father had thought of that, too. That annoyed her a bit, but it was still a true fact. _Still__, __I __wished __I __could __have __chosen __for __myself__..._

"Are you okay with that, Tali?" Shala asked. _At __least __she __does __ask __me__._

"I..." Tali began and hesitated. _Am __I__? _But what was she to do? Resist against her father, something that would surely exhaust any emotional reserves she had, probably go beyond them, even though his choice for her was actually not that bad? Just out of principle? She knew Shepard would have done so, there was absolutely no doubt about that. However, that did not necessarily mean it was the intelligent, rational thing to do. "I think so."

"Then welcome in my crew, Tali," Han said.

Shepard would be disappointed, Tali knew. If he truly did watch from _heaven_, this mystical place of human spirituality as Ashley was certain he did, then he would now no doubt be disappointed. _I__'__m __sorry__, __Jon__. __I__'__m __sorry __Ashley__. __But __things __are __different __here __on __the __Fleet__. _"Thank you, Admiral," Tali said, "I... I..." She stopped. There was nothing to say.

It seemed finally even her father recognized in what state she was. "I'm sorry this all comes so quickly for you, Tali," he said. "You will have get some days of vacations and rest, you have more than earned it." He paused. "Say... your pilgrimage captain, this Shepard... are the rumours true?"

Tali felt a deep sadness, a deep mourning well up inside her. _Jon__... _And even though her father's tone had been friendly, almost caring, she feared his reaction. Still, she could not lie to him. Not to her father. She nodded and cast her glance downward.

"I'm sorry, Tali," Rael said softly. "It might have been for... no. Nothing of that. I'm sorry."

Tali looked up surprised. This sounded nothing like her father as she knew him.

"You do deserve some peace," Rael went on. "Take good care of her, Han." He left, suddenly and very hastily.

So did Tali. For the first time since Shepard's death she felt tears welling up. Shala tried to touch her shoulder and offer some comfort, but she ignored that. Somehow she felt as if she had betrayed Shepard, silly as that sounded. He would have wished for her to stand up for herself, to choose for herself, and she had not. She had returned to the Fleet, and immediately everything was as it always been: Her father told her what to do, and she did.

And yet, she could do nothing against it.

**000000**

**So far still no divergences, just stuff that might also have been in the canon ME-verse. But no worry, this will start next chapter. Concerning this one, I realized onlywith some delay how parallel and similar it is to Garrus' chapter. Ah well, this is then: Team Dextro's Daddy Issues. Maybe it's just my general paranoia about authority, but it always seemed very suspicious to me that Tali ended up on the ship of her father's close friend. Very suspicious. So I ran with that. Now I still had some doubts about this, about how maybe it makes Tali too weak, shows her as too demure. But then, she still is in mourning and besides - even Shepard will show some weaknesses in my ME 2 story, so I guess in the end it will all balance out. **


	5. Ch3: Wrex, Goyle

**According ****to ****this ****fic****'****s internal ****logic and chronology****, ****this ****should ****be ****the ****Liara ****chapter****. ****However****, ****as ****it ****so ****happens****, ****Liara****'****s ****story ****is ****simply ****going ****to ****Omega ****to ****get ****Shepard****'****s ****body****. ****It****'****s ****literally ****just ****the ****Redemption ****comic ****with basically ****no ****changes****. ****So****, ****if ****you ****want ****her ****story****, ****read ****that ****comic****. ****Or ****the ****summary ****on ****the ****wiki****. Anyway, there's hence ****no ****Liara ****chapter ****here****.**

**000000**

Dark, deep drum rhythms echoed through the ruins of the grand hall, but they were drowned by bellowing and shouting of a hundred warriors, whose massive figures were illuminated by the flickering fires that were lit at all corners. Often, two of them would begin to argue and fight. Those fights had always many howling onlookers. Some of them ended with both opponents laughing, others with one remaining bloodied in the dirt. However, the famed krogan regeneration always took care of those problems.

Urdnot Wrex, the new rising star among Tuchanka's warlords and now the undisputed leader of his clan, sat on a throne of crumbling stone above the masses of his rowdy but loyal followers. Below him, his newest victory was celebrated in the traditional krogan style. The ryncol was flowing freely, weapons were brandished, tall tales were told, and defeated enemies were humiliated. A bit farer away from the thrones, screams emerged from a deep, oval pit. Many of Wrex' warriors were standing around it, cheering and laughing and betting. The last of the enemy forces were dying there. Few krogan warriors let themselves be captured alive on Tuchanka, because usually what the enemy did to them would be worse than death.

Wrex of course was no sadist. In fact, some of his followers thought him too tame, maybe even too soft. If they voiced their opinion, their skulls would soon get crushed. However, it was true that he did not torture his captured enemies for the amusement of his troops. Rather, he let them fight with ridiculously inferior weapons in gladiator fights against heavily armed volunteers from among his own warriors. It happened only rarely that a prisoner won and got to live, but it happened. And the fights were an amusing diversion to his troops just as public torture would have been.

And thus the last of Urdnot Wreav's troops died in gladiator fights. Wrex allowed them to at least die like krogan. After all, it had been his brother's men. Had the roles been reversed Wreav surely would have chosen more sadistic means to amuse his men, but Wrex had utterly crushed him, leaving no doubt or uncertainty. Wreav himself had fled, but that only meant he was seen by most as a coward now. Clan Urdnot was now without question ruled by Wrex. It had always been one of the largest clans on Tuchanka, in terms of pure numbers maybe even the largest. However, this was the first time in centuries it actually was united behind a single warlord.

_It__'__s __a __start__. _Wrex had larger ambitions, of course. Larger ambitions than probably any of the millions of warlords before him since the end of the Krogan Rebellions. A warlord vowing to conquer all of Tuchanka, that was hardly something new. So far, all had failed. And yet, Wrex wanted to go even further. It was not enough to merely conquer Tuchanka. That was just the stepping stone for his ambitions, just as uniting Clan Urdnot was the first stepping stone to conquering Tuchanka. What he really wanted was to reform his people. Pacify them, order them. They would always be krogan of course. They would always be violent. But maybe he could channel this, make them a bit less _suicidally_ violent.

Or maybe not. But the price for achieving that, the glorious price most krogan did not even dare to hope for, justified aiming even for the impossible.

Another krogan approached Wrex' thrones. His two guards, stationed there more for his glorification than true protection, immediately raised their guns, but Wrex dismissively waved his hand and they relaxed. He knew that krogan. He did not like him, but he knew him.

"Great Warlord, there's news you might want to hear," Urdnot Krah said. His entire demeanour was submissive, something that raised Wrex' ire and disgust. Wreav might have liked to surround himself by lickspittles, but to Wrex that made Krah less than a true krogan. Still, he tolerated him for a reason. Krah was no full warrior, but instead an engineer. Vicious in his own ways, but rarely attacking from the front or relying only on his strength. Traits that Wrex disliked, but he also realized his empire in the making would have need of people like him

"Hm?" Wrex inquired gruffly.

"I recorded it here on this holodisk," Krah explained. He pushed a button and the replay began:

"_..__it __is __still __unclear __what __exactly __the _Normandy _was __doing __in __the __Omega __Nebula__, __and __what __it __discovered __there__. __While __most __crew __members __survived __its __destruction__, __it __appears __Jonathan __Shepard__, __Council __Spectre__, __is __among __the __casualties__. __This __will __no __doubt __add __to __the __already __unstable __political __situation __in__..." _**[1]**

_Shepard__!_ Abruptly, Wrex rose from his throne. Immediately, silence fell onto the rowdy and violent celebrations below him. He took a look at his warriors, and then turned around and left. He was too overwhelmed with thoughts of what these news would mean.

Shepard had been a great warrior, one of the greatest at whose side Wrex had fought, and great warriors died. He had in fact died in battle, as was befitting to him. There was nothing about this Wrex should mourn and while he was a bit sad that he would not get the chance to fight again at his side, that was not what has shocked him. Great warriors died in battle, that was the way of the world. However, Wrex wondered what might have died with Shepard. As he walked through the dark corridor of collapsed buildings, he wondered if his whole campaign still made sense.

000000

Without a doubt the Citadel was the political and economical, social and cultural centre of the galaxy. The fashions and music of the Wards were reproduced the entire galaxy over, and the trade volume of the space stations was gigantic. And beyond that all, it of course housed the Citadel Council, the supreme galactic political instance. Most people would hence assume the Council Chamber to be the heart of power of the station and beyond that of the entire galaxy. However, that was not completely true. For the most part, the Council Chamber was in fact merely for public and semi-public events, for proclamations, audiences and the like. Its entire architecture was focused on letting the Council appear high and powerful.

There was some use to this self-representation, but it made closed consultations a bit complicated. Hence, when they discussed matters among themselves, the Councillors usually met in a nearby conference room. Anita Goyle disliked the fancy, overblown decorations of it, but at least it was a closed room with a proper conference table that could be used for all those private consultations that kept the galaxy running. This was where all the important decisions were actually made before they were proclaimed. Currently the human Councillor was sitting at that table, and to her great annoyance so was Sparatus, the turian Councillor. One of only forty-two survivors of the _Destiny __Ascension__,_ he was the only member of the old Council still serving and his face showed the marks of that battle: Scars crossed it everywhere and half of his left mandible was missing, as was a finger on his left hand. Those would be regrown within some months, no doubt, but for now the Councillor looked rather scary.

Which was rather apt, or so Goyle thought. His behaviour in the Council had been rather scary so far as well. He had not forgiven humanity or the Alliance for, as he put it, leaving him to die and he was just as aggressive to his new salarian and asari colleagues. And right now was no different. "So this meeting will be about you asking for even more for humanity?" he asked aggressively. "Is your greed ever satisfied?"

"This meeting will indeed be about the further integration of humanity into the Council and its structures," Goyle answered calmly and coolly.

"What great surprise," Sparatus mocked. "But I wonder if your dear Alliance is even in the position to ask for such things."

"You always wonder that," Goyle replied bluntly.

"I don't mean morally, I meant purely practically," Sparatus explained. "Let us have a look what is happening inside the Alliance, shall we?"

He fiddled with his omni-tool and activated the holo projector in the middle of the conference table. A newsfeed from the extranet appeared:

"_Reports __from __Chicago __are __still __unclear __and __contradictory__. __The __city __centre __experienced __a __night __of __violence __when __a __biotic __rights __march __escalated __into __street __fights __with __the __police __and __counter-__protesters__. __It __is __still __unclear __how __many __people __were __injured __or __how __many __are __held __in __custody__. __The __United __North __American __States __are __one __of __the __most __divided __countries __on __Earth __on __the __matters __that __recently __fallen __Spectre __Shepard __has __brought __up__, __and __the __Chicago __violence __will __no __doubt __further __heat __up __public __discussion__. __It __is __expected __that __President __Huerta __will__..."_

Sparatus pushed a button, and another news station appeared.

"_...__Observers __fear __that __the __ongoing __conflict __between __the __European __Union __and __the __Arab __League __might __turn __into __a __customs __and __tariffs __war __if __one __side __should __decide __to __employ __more __than __just __words__. __The __European __Union__, __which __shares __a __land __border __to __the __League __at __Kurdistan __and __the __Levant __and __a __sea __border __through __the __Mediterranean __Sea__, __continues __to __criticize __the __Arab __denouncement __of __Shepard__'__s __activities __and __the __suppression __of __biotic __rights __protests__, __which __has __already __provoked __some __quite __angry __responses __from __Cairo__. __This __issue __is __seen __as __symptomatic __for __the __rising __tension __between__ some __of __Earth__'__s __nation __states __standing __on __opposite __sides__ of __that __issue__, __which __is __unlikely __to __go __away __in __the __near __future__. __Therefore__..."_

"_The __Scott __Declaration __remains __a __hot __topic __in __Alliance __Parliament__. __The __common __declaration __of __the __colonial __governments __of __Terra __Nova__, __Eden __Prime __and __Elysium __is __seen __by __many__, __especially __on __the __right__-__wing __benches__, __as __an __act __of __disloyalty __or __even __an __ultimatum __against __the __Alliance__. __The __three __colonies__, __which __all __revere __the __memory __of __Spectre __Shepard __highly__, __have __made __it __clear __in __no __uncertain __terms __that __the __Alliance __should __finally __start __measures __to __begin __investigating __the __BAaT __matter __and __bring __its __perpetrators __to __justice__. __While so far __they __have __not __specified __a __course __of __action __to __take __should __this __not __occur__, __it __is __widely __assumed __that__..."_

"_Several __right __wing __groups __have __taken __the __Ministry __for __Colonial __Affairs__' __recent __announcement __to __denounce __Shepard__, __leading __most __of __the __named __factors for the current poor record on colonial expansion __back __to __him__. __According __to __the __Ministry__, __colonization __efforts __have __dropped __off __sharply __over __the __last __quarter__, __and __the __outlook __for __next __year __sees__ 2184 __as __the __year __with __the __lowest __colonization __rate __in __all __fields __since __the __end __of __the __First __Contact __War__. __Due __to __ExoGeni__'__s __cessation __of __all __colonial __activities __and __its __impeding __collapse__, __most __plans __for __new __colony __foundations __have __been __shelved__, __while __the __Eden __Prime __War __has __scared __off __new __potential __colonists __to __move __even __into __already __established __colonies__. __According __to __one __commentator __inside __the __ministry__, __it __is __well __possible __that __the __Alliance __will __not __see __any __astrogaphical __territorial __growth __in __the __next __five __years__." _**[2]**

Sparatus turned off the holo-projector and smirked at Goyle. At least she assumed it was a smirk. It was sometimes difficult to tell with turians. Their bony faces did not allow for as much mimics as humans had. "Shepard made you Council Chairwoman, but it seems he also damaged his own species."

Goyle had no problems with him attacking her or the Alliance. Even if there had been no personal feelings involved it would be, in a way, his job as a diplomat from time to time. However, she considered it very low to attack the memory of the man who had saved the Citadel. Besides, she supported the efforts the Spectre had initiated with all her heart. She had a lot of stuff to make up for again, lots of amends to do. **[3]** "Shepard always made a difference between humanity and the Alliance. Of course a turian wouldn't understand," she shot back.

"What I understand is that your Alliance might have trouble to sustain its great power fantasies with all that internal trouble going on," Sparatus said aggressively.

"So far the trouble at home is entirely separate from our standing here or the performance of our Navy," Goyle answered, this time more calmly again, "Should this change you can gloat all you want. For the moment being, though, it does not affect the facts on the ground." She slammed her hands on the table and stood up. Hey eyes fixated Sparatus. "For the moment being, you cannot deny Alliance influence, and hence we _will _integrate ourselves into the Council."

"I wonder if we should not have let the Citadel fell to the geth," Sparatus said with disdain, "they might have been the more benevolent masters."

"You don't really mean that," Goyle answered. "Be glad it's us. And be glad it's me and not Udina. You know how he would have been. With him it would have been Alliance interests all the way."

"That's true," Sparatus conceded. "As it is, you play us against the Alliance, and the Alliance against us. Do you think you will get away with that for long?"

"No," Goyle admitted and sat down again "But I'm an old woman. I already was in retirement, and I can return to it if need be. I don't have a career to save." _But __I __will __make __up __my __mistakes__, __my __lack __of __empathy__, __as __good __as __I __can__. __Even __if __it __hardly __compares __to __what __I__'__ve __caused__. _

"Don't posture. I know you're not _that_ old by the standards of your species, human," Sparatus said. And he was right, after all the retirement she had left again had been a rather early and purely politically motivated one. "In any case, this means at least I can find some solace in the inevitability of your eventual fall."

Goyle stifled a sigh. Not for the first time she wished Orinia could have stayed. She had been the provisional turian Councillor until Sparatus had recovered from his injuries, and she had been a very fair and pragmatically minded woman. A bit stiff at times, but that was to be expected from a turian military veteran. Cooperation with her had been possible. Unfortunately, some days ago Sparatus had been released from hospital, six weeks after the Battle of the Citadel, and had taken his Council seat back. In this short time had already managed to become an insufferable pain to Goyle.

"My future is hardly your concern," she answered, "I will... but, ah, our colleagues are arriving."

Indeed the other Councillors arrived, both as new at their job as Goyle. In her estimation, neither was much of an improvement over their predecessors. Thaerys Laesar, the new asari Councillor, had nothing of the mediating diplomatic tact Tevros had possessed. While she had the same social graces and political cunning, she used it aggressively, always trying to gain little concessions here and there. It had already become clear that the new mediating spirit of the Council would be the salarian Councillor: Mencham Oris, a dalatrass. That was unusual. Dalatrasses were the powerbrokers of the chaotic salarian politics. Usually the constant competition and conflict in the Salarian Union forced them to stay home and coordinate matters. Goyle was not sure if Mencham's post was a an exile, or a bold power grab. Salarian politics could be confusing to outsiders. **[4]**

"Our greetings, Chairwoman Goyle, Councillor Sparatus," Mencham began as she and Thaerys got seated.

"We should better start right away," Thaerys continued. "This stuff will no doubt provoke much discussion again, and we need to have it worked out at the next official session."

_Can__'__t __be __that __hoi __polloi __see __the __discussions __between __us_, Goyle thought cynically. "Most of the issues on the table are very obvious and standard issues," Goyle disagreed, even though she knew that there would be discussion indeed. "Humanity has a Council seat now and that means it needs to be better integrated into Citadel administration and structures. All Council departments, C-Sec, etc. are still staffed nearly exclusively with members of your three races. In the interests of smooth cooperation on the Council this needs to be reformed."

"A further demand from the Alliance," Thaerys summarized Goyle's position bluntly, "More humans in important positions."

"Her arguments make sense, though," Mencham said. "The Citadel administration should indeed be composed of the races that make up the Council." _Thank __the __gods __for the always good __salarian__-__human __relations__. _

"C-Sec has always been turian in majority, though," Sparatus argued. "And this has always worked well. I don't think we should meddle in this."

Thaerys just smirked, but Mencham proposed: "C-Sec is indeed a unique matter. Maybe we can leave this up for the end? Let us first discuss the Citadel ministries and agencies."

And thus the negotiations began. In truth it was not very different to haggling on a bazaar. The negotiations proved to be difficult, but not impossible. Convinced by Mencham, the other Councillors realized that humanity needed to have more people in the Citadel government. It was just a logical conclusion from their newly gained Council seat. All in all, Goyle thought that she did not too badly. In fact, she achieved more than she had hoped for. Soon, all those ministries and agencies would have a sizeable human contingent. _With __some __luck__, __this __success __will __keep __the __Alliance __off __my __back __for __a __while__._

However part of this success was that the most difficult part was still to come: C-Sec. The turians had a good claim for it to be a de facto turian domain. Mencham's argument simply did no apply there. Goyle knew as much. She knew it was a battle she could not win. So instead, she would try to use this fact to her own ends.

Sparatus for his part of course was unwilling to agree to any compromise: "I don't care what you say. We already do allow human applicants to C-Sec. Soon enough they will be at equal numbers with asari and salarians. But C-Sec has always been turian majority since our inclusion in the Council, and it has always worked. There is no need to change that. This is just a further blatant human power-grab."

"I'm sure Chairwoman Goyle means well," Mencham disagreed. "Her arguments are sound. Unfortunately, so is yours, which is what is getting us into this impasse."

"I don't think this needs much discussion, actually," Thaerys cut in. "Councillor Sparatus is right that a turian-majority C-Sec so far has always worked. More humans need to be included to reflect the new human Council seat, but as C-Sec already is taking human applicants this should be merely a matter of time. I think we should just monitor the situation and only intervene if trouble occurs."

"I'm afraid this is unacceptable," Goyle replied coolly. "My government would see that as a weak attempt at stalling."

"Your government?" Mencham was quick to pick up the distinction. "Not you?"

"I as well to a degree, but I can... appreciate Councillor Sparatus' argument," Goyle answered. "However, only 'monitoring the situation' alone just will not do, because that does amount to doing nothing."

Sparatus scoffed, but Thaerys asked: "So what do you propose, Chairwoman?"

"If that monitoring is done according to some strict guidelines, I may be willing to accept that - in return for a concession on another matter," Goyle explained.

"Go ahead," Mencham told her.

She had the Council where she had wanted it to be. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to work out the details first," Goyle disagreed. She had a very clear concession in mind, but she had to bring everything in order first, so for the moment being it would have to wait. "I move we end this meeting for now. We did some pretty constructive work."

Thaerys just nodded sharply, Mencham agreed: "Yes, let us work on that at a later day" and Sparatus mocked: "Not like we'll still get anything done today."

They all left the room, and Goyle began to walk toward her office. It was too nearby to take the public transportation system, but for a woman of her age everything seemed a bit farther out of reach, a bit slower to get to than in younger years. The walk would take some minutes, during which she was alone with her thoughts. She knew the general political situation very well, and it troubled her. Some of it was good in that it forced the Alliance to finally face its crimes, but most of it was troubling.

Councillor Sparatus had not known half of what was going on in the Alliance. Or maybe he actually did; turian intelligence was not as good as what the salarians or asari had, but still was not shabby. The truth was that things looked even bleaker than what the news had shown. Much of it went on beyond closed doors, and most of that had the potential to explode into everybody's face. In North America, President Huerta's government was paralysed by his ongoing illness, so unrest in the cities was likely to spread. _Damn __their __President__-__centric __system__. _Europe and Arabia were actually already preparing for the eventuality of a trade war. And the corporations were in full on paranoia mode, fearful that ExoGeni's fate could happen to them, too.

Yet worst of all were the colonies, both the small ones and the big ones. The Alliance government was searching frantically for a way out of the ExoGeni trial. Goyle had her eyes on that. She would not allow the issue to be quietly forgotten. _Never __again__. _At least the government was apparently only willing to use formal and legal means, but still if they did try anything, things could get very, very ugly. And as for the large colonies, ironically enough the right wing warmongers actually had it right: Terra Nova, Eden Prime and Elysium _were_ threatening the Alliance. It was not in the Scott Declaration; that was just posturing. But behind closed doors the three colonial governments had already issued ultimatums.

The situation on those colonies was complex. It were of course the colonists who felt the drawback of the Alliance's too fast expansion, one of Shepard's points of criticism, most closely and besides all cases of deliberate eezo contamination had happened in the colonies. Most people on the colonies at least knew somebody who knew a biotic. On the other hand, the people who went out to the stars, to the Alliance colonies, were obviously for the most parts the staunchest Alliance enthusiasts. Thus most colonies were even more bitterly divided than the UNAS. However, on the three 'Shepard colonies' it was his memory, the memory of the man who had saved them all, which turned the balance: All three were clearly united and even devoted to his causes. And they would throw their entire political weight into the scales.

Already the corporations were screaming bloody murder. The three colonies were actively going against them. Especially ExoGeni and Binary Helix seemed to have forfeited all rights on those planets, but also other corporations were treated in a way they could only be described as harassment. Given how many politicians even in the colonies were in the corporations' pockets, this all had a 'knight of the long knives' feeling to those in the know. Apparently those politicians were convinced that populist measures would gain them more votes now than corporate money. However, the corporations of course still had influence with the Alliance government, and they were shouting for them to do _something__. _Sooner or later the government would have to give in to those demands, and that would just escalate the situation even further.

Eden Prime was the Alliance's bread basket. Terra Nova was its mining centre, controlling a measurable percentage of the galactic platinum trade. And Elysium was the social and economical centre of the Skyllian Verge. Maybe Bekenstein, the Alliance's manufacturing and trade centre, was still as important as those three colonies, but certainly no further colony. So three of the what were probably the four most important colonies were actively dissenting and were apparently ready to consider drastic actions. Goyle was happy that _somebody _kept up pressure on the Alliance, but it did nothing good for social and political stability. So she would have to bluff in Council regarding the Alliance's strength. She would uphold the image of a strong Alliance, an Alliance with no problems... but only to a degree. _Never __again __the __same __mistake__. __The __same __criminal __mistake__. __Never__ever__, __ever __again__. _And if it could help undo her mistakes, she would actively work against the Alliance. She already did in Council now and then, on the 'Shepard issues', and she was quickly making contacts with like-minded human groups.

The troubled thoughts stayed with her as she entered her office. There was two messages on her terminal. She froze; the first was from a contact she had in the Ministry of Colonial Affairs and things had just gotten even worse. The 'Shepard Colonies' had just specified their threats. They threatened to eventually withhold tax payments, should the Alliance not finally get to work on the BAaT matter. Also, Colonial Affairs expected the Shepard Colonies to start expropriating corporate property soon. _Damn __them__! __That__'__s __too __fast__! __This __won__'__t __keep __up __pressure __on __the __Alliance__, __it __will __all __just __go__ to __hell__! _But then, who would ever listen to her? Apparently, not even the Council she theoretically chaired did. And besides, as Shepard would have said, some victims had waited fifteen years for justice. There was no 'too fast' for them. However, for her as human Councillor things were becoming very iffy and stressful.

At least the second message was good news. It was from Michael Johnson in Paris. The European city was where the offices for her legal and social efforts regarding the ExoGeni and BAaT cases were located, now led by Johnson. And it seemed that now finally, finally he had managed to organize them in an orderly fashion and register them with the authorities. Finally the _Jonathan __Shepard __Foundation __for __Social __Justice _was standing. The name was a propaganda move of course, but she doubted Shepard would have disapproved.

Her secretary opened the door, a young, African man with a spotless appearance. "Your visitor had just arrived, Council Chairwoman," he announced.

"Lead her in then, please," Goyle told him.

Insecurely a young, athletic woman entered the room. She obviously felt uncomfortable in these surroundings and probably also uncomfortable in her civilian attire. "Welcome, Williams," Goyle greeted her. "Have a seat, please."

Ashley Williams, one of Shepard's squadmates during their hunt for Saren. Officially she still was part of the Alliance Navy, but proceedings for a dishonourable discharge were already going on. There was nothing Goyle could do about that; it had already been difficult enough to get her out of the Navy's imprisonment.

"Thank you, Council Chairwoman," Williams answered while sitting down. "So... uh, you called me to here? I assume you have something on your mind?"

_Ah __yes__. __Military __people__. __Always __as __subtle __as __a __sledgehammer __strike __to__ the __head__. _"We'll come to that," Goyle stated. "How are you doing?"

Williams moved uncomfortably. "I'm getting by." She paused. "But it's difficult. I don't mean to be ungrateful for what you've done for me, and I know you can't solve all problems, but as interesting as the Citadel is I'm getting somewhat sick of it. It's getting boring, and my financial reserves are running dry. Life is _expensive_ here, and it's not like I have an income at the moment."

"Well. Maybe we can do something about that," Goyle said. "I have an offer for you. You couldn't return to the Alliance now even if you wanted to, and in fact you don't want to. I can respect that. Still, your talents are currently going to waste. We can't have that."

"What do you have in mind?" Williams asked. She sounded suspicious.

"Humanity currently has a Council seat, but no Spectre," Goyle hinted.

"What?" Williams asked shocked. "You cannot seriously mean... I of all people... what I mean, Council Chairwoman, is that I don't exactly have the best track record in working with aliens. And now you want me to serve the Council? Truth be told I never exactly liked them."

"Don't worry, I know," Goyle answered. "I wouldn't have made this offer to you had I not read your service record and several evaluations of you before. However, it's more complicated than that. Let me try to explain." She paused and tried to find the right words. "You wouldn't be the Council's Spectre. You wouldn't be the Alliance's quota Spectre, either, though I'll try to sell it to them as such. You would be _my _Spectre. The Council will realize that there has to be a new human Spectre now, and as your split with the Alliance is known you're more palatable to them than most others. They'll agree to leave you alone, to have you report only to me. The Alliance on the other hand has the choice between accepting that or not getting a human Spectre at all." She laid back and grinned. "It pays to be appointed by Shepard. The Alliance can't remove me without losing much legitimacy for its creation, this new Council."

"You seem very sure I would want to be _your_ Spectre," Williams remarked. "Or that the other Councillors will agree to leave me alone."

Goyle shrugged. "It would allow you to finally get off this station. And I can pay you from the black funds the Alliance gives me. Using it to support the single human Spectre is surely something I'll be able to justify. As for the other Councillors, they still owe me a concession. Besides, why would they risk running you back into the Alliance's arms? Which could happen if they push too hard and they know it. No, they'll do me this favour. It's after all no big issue to them." She paused. "But there's more to it. I'm sure you'll agree because I'm sure you'll agree with what I want to do."

"Which is?" Williams asked. She seemed somewhat aggressive, but Goyle realized that it was mostly due to her confusion about this unusual proposal.

"I don't know how much you keep up with news, but surely you know how unstable the situation in the Alliance is turning," Goyle answered. "I need somebody to watch it. Somebody who is not loyal to the Alliance or the Council, but to me. Or rather, to Shepard's ideals. And that person will need to have special legal powers."

"Sounds like a job where I might wake up... how did Shepard put it on Virmire? Wake up with my throat slit from ear to ear," Williams complained.

"Oh, no doubt. I'd be sending you into the thick of danger," Goyle admitted. "But who else if not you? You have survived geth, husks and worse. Can the potential threat of assassins really still faze you? And who could be more loyal to Shepard's memory?"

"Well, what human at least," Williams muttered. "Okay, I see your point."

"Oh don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on everybody who was close to Shepard," Goyle stated mysteriously. "In any case there's also more to this. I also promised Shepard to make inquiries regarding his... your Reaper theory. I'll need an agent with special powers for that as well. But first of all, I need somebody to take a look at the crisis flash points in the Alliance."

"Okay," Williams answered slowly. "That makes sense. But... aren't the Reapers the bigger threat? Shouldn't that be the primary concern?"

"_If _they are a threat," Goyle answered. "That is exactly what I want to find out. Yes, the theory needs to be tested, but not while the Alliance might soon be burning."

"It's no theory!" Williams exclaimed. "I mean, sorry, ma'am, but you weren't there. You haven't seen what we did."

"No," Goyle allowed, "I haven't. But at least grant me that I'm more open to your experiences than Udina would have been. So far, though, I'll _have_ to treat it as a theory. You have to admit that it _could_ also just have been a psychological warfare trick by Saren."

"With all due respect, ma'am - hah, now I sound like Kaidan did," Williams said and shook her head in a flash of nostalgic sadness. "Damnit. But this is, it's..." She stopped herself.

"I think the word you just avoided was 'bullshit'," Goyle said calmly and not unfriendly. "And of course it looks like that from your point of view. As you've said, you were with Shepard, after all. And Shepard, I freely say so, was a great man. He saved the Citadel from the geth, and basically on the side also saved two human colonies and publicised just what is wrong with the Alliance, which hopefully will lead to long, long overdue justice and reforms. But you _know_ he also was a somewhat unstable man. He believed some things rather too easily. I mean, he began crusading for the BAaT victims basically on the say so of a single lieutenant. He was right in that case, and it might finally bring some justice to the survivors, but this does not mean the same holds true for the Reaper theory."

"As it so happens, he was right on both counts!" Williams agreed aggressively. An awkward pause ensued. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap. Still, the Reapers are real. Not just a trick by a Saren. You don't kill yourself to uphold a psychological warfare manoeuvre."

"The Council has rejected Shepard's report of Saren dying twice," Goyle explained. "You have to admit, it does sound a bit outlandish. As far as they are concerned, Saren was defeated and killed in the Council gardens."

Williams rolled her eyes. "Of course. Why did I even expect better?" she muttered.

"Now, rest assured we _will_ investigate the Reaper threat," Goyle said. "I promised so to Shepard. However, even assuming the Reapers are real, then this is just an additional reason we need to peace in Alliance space. Should they come, we cannot have everything collapsing around us."

Williams looked up shocked. "Is that a possibility?"

"I don't think they Alliance itself will collapse, if you mean that," Goyle answered. "However, we could be looking at years of social unrest, deep political divisions, even periodic outbursts of violence. Of course, the Alliance is doing everything to stop that. But... I don't think either of us really wants their kind of pacification. You know how it would go. Suppression of facts, hush-ups, and so on. No justice served. Again." This had become an unbearable thought for Goyle. _Never __again__. _

"Yeah. And so you need an own agent, as you've said," Williams agreed. "Okay, true. That's a worthy cause. Playing undercover agent and investigator for your foundation at least gives me something to do."

Goyle did not deny Williams would be just that. "And you will also get to check the galaxy for clues for the Reapers," she added. "After we have dealt with the current crisis."

"Still, I'm wondering - am I not somewhat too young and low-ranking to be a Spectre?" Ashley asked.

Goyle chuckled. "Don't make me feel old. In any case, you're not younger than Saren was when he was appointed Spectre, and people still think he was a great Spectre before his betrayal." She made a grimace. "He wasn't. I've dealt with him, he has always been a monster. But that's besides the point. In the Spectre business, only your skills count. _Your_ skills are outstanding, and you have the right loyalty."

Williams nodded slowly. "Very well. If you say so. You have your personal Spectre, Council Chairwoman."

000000

_Undisciplined__, __the __lot __of__ them__. _Wrex marched over the desolate battlefield and watched how the last remaining enemy warriors were routed. At the same time, some of his men were already beginning to celebrate. They fired wildly into the air, cheered, and maltreated semi-conscious and injured enemies. It seemed that at the point of victory, his army was disintegrating into a mob. _This __will __have __to __be __better__. _Centuries of mercenary experience had shown Wrex how real military units fought. Of course he could not shape krogan into something they just were not. He always was aware of that fact. However, surely, they could do better than _this__._

At least they had won. The newly united Clan Urdnot had won its first victory against an external enemy. Clan Karrosh lay broken and defeated before them. The other, smaller clans of the region would now have no choice but to accept Urdnot supremacy, lest the same fate should befall them. For the turians of the Council Demilitarization Enforcement Mission watching this it would just look like krogan politics as usual. However, Wrex had no intention to be just the next generic warlord.

Already he was making sure that the female clans associated with Clan Karrosh and the smaller clans would come to no harm. That would be a key piece of his strategy. Reproduction had become difficult with the genophage, so most krogan warriors saw women as a valuable resource, maybe even _the_ most valuable on Tuchanka. The formation of female clans helped to protect them, but only to a degree. If _he_ could protect them, including from his own men, though, then this could make them a formidable tool in bringing order to this scorched wasteland of a planet. He just wondered if there still was a purpose to it after... _No__. __I __shouldn__'__t __think __about __that__._

"A grand victory, Warlord!" a man bellowed at his side. Urdnot Kreg, one of his most trusted lieutenants.

"Yes. It's a beginning," Wrex replied. _I__'__ll __drag __the __krogan __to __glory __whether __they__'__ll __like __it __or __not__. _

"Soon, everybody will tremble hearing your name," Kreg continued.

"Yes. That will be useful," Wrex answered, "But I have greater ambitions than that."

"Of course," Kreg agreed. "That is what makes you a great warlord: Great ambitions."

"I wonder if it still worth it, though," Wrex muttered. He had not dared to confront this issue in weeks. He had come here to Tuchanka to change the krogan, so that Shepard's genophage cure could be used. After hearing of the _Normandy__'__s _destruction and Shepard's death, Wrex had simply continued. He hated to admit it, but he had not possessed the courage to ask if the cure had survived. He dreaded the answer.

"You said something, Warlord?" Kreg asked.

Something gripped Wrex' hearts. "I need to find out something. Now." He turned and hurried to his command centre.

Like most things on Tuchanka this 'command centre' sounded more glorious then it actually was. Wrex had fought for lowly pirate scum with better equipment than he had here. However, he supposed it would have to do: Several pieces of electronics carried to near the battlefield, placed upon a heap of rubble. Certainly nothing that would have one win battles against other races, but for the constant wars on Tuchanka it was enough. It probably was even better than what his opponents had. It even had a connection to the galaxy spanning extranet. And it was exactly that console that Wrex was using now. He sent a message and waited. His usually subdued emotions boiled inside him as he waited for the message to be accepted. It took several minutes, but eventually a face appeared on the screen. A face under a mask.

"Wrex. This is a surprise," Tali said. She did not sound like it, though. In fact, she sounded pretty distant and uncaring. "You're lucky the Migrant Fleet is currently near an extranet relay."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Wrex said gruffly. "I know where your Fleet is." He had kept himself constantly updated on that for weeks now. In truth, he had planned to call earlier already, but part of him had always feared what Tali might say.

And the quarian concluded exactly what this was about. _Damn __her __quick __mind__. _"I see. In case, you're worried - I still have it." A feeling of relief took hold of Wrex as he had never experienced it before. The salvation of his people - it still existed. "Jon... he... he gave a copy to me. And only to me. I wear it on my suit all the time. It's safe."

As old mercenary Wrex recognized the security measures. One copy, in case the original was destroyed, to be given to the most trusted person. He would have done it the same way. He should have had more trust in Shepard's resourcefulness. "This is good to know. For a moment I had been in doubt." He would not have admitted so to anybody on the planet. But with his old battle companions from the _Normandy_, that was something else. "I'm sorry for your loss. Shepard was a great man. A great warrior." He hesitated and added quickly and awkwardly: "And... more to you. I'm sorry."

Tali remained quiet for a long time. Then she spoke quietly and sadly: "Thanks. He would have... he would have watched your progress on Tuchanka. Instead, I do. News about the endless wars on Tuchanka are not exactly easy to come by out here, but it's possible. It's just..." Her voice became firmer. "I will honour his promise. I have to."

"Ah... thank you Tali," Wrex said quietly. Showing gratitude and condolence was still difficult to him, even after centuries. Maybe especially after centuries. "It means I have something worth fighting for here."

"No, thank you for giving me the chance to uphold his memory," Tali answered, more decisive again. "You're not the first to do that, actually," she added after a pause. "My shipmates will wonder where I get all the external calls from."

"What do you mean?" Wrex asked.

"I just got another call, only some hours ago," Tali explained. "From Council Chairwoman Goyle, of all people. Also about Jon's memory... in a way."

That was interesting indeed. Wrex doubted such an important person would have wanted to just chat with Tali. "Hm. Important stuff?"

"Yes," was the only thing Tali said in response.

Wrex understood. He had been a mercenary long enough to understand secrecy, confidentiality and the concept of a need to know base. "Then I wish you good luck."

"I'll need it," Tali just answered. Wrex did not know what was going on, but he liked how decisive Tali sounded. Almost like one of his warriors. And she was in a way, he realized. A warrior for Shepard's memory. Maybe that would give her some peace.

**000000**

**[1] ****Yes****, ****it****'****s ****the ****same ****news ****Rentola ****has ****seen****, ****so ****it****'****s ****at ****circa ****the ****same ****time****, ****meaning ****that ****segment ****is ****chronologically ****four ****weeks ****before ****the ****next****.**

**[2] ****The ****fics****' ****title ****and**** '****book ****cover****' ****image ****should ****be ****clear ****now**** ;)**

**[3] ****Hm****, ****I ****just ****realize ****I ****didn****'****t ****put ****that ****in ****the ****summary****. ****Oh ****well****. ****I ****hope ****people ****know ****what ****Goyle ****means****.**

**[4] ****There ****is ****some ****overlap ****with ****the ****new ****Councillors ****as ****per ****ME**** 3 ****canon****, ****but ****since ****I ****won****'****t ****fully**** keep ****to ****that ****I ****thought ****it ****better ****to ****make ****them ****separate****, ****if ****very ****similar ****characters****. ****If ****that ****makes ****sense****... **

**Also, the word counter here is hilariously out of whack.  
**


	6. Ch4: Ashley

**Well, this took long. And it ended up being quite long, too. I'm not entirely happy with the chapter, but well, the story needs to go on!**_  
_

_Spectre__. __Who __would __have __thought__?_

Ashley still could not quite believe it. After years of being outspoken against the Council, after years of faithful service to the Alliance, she now was a Council Spectre after being dishonourably discharged from the Navy.

_I __always __knew __God __had __a __wicked __sense __of __humour__..._

She had witnessed Shepard's Spectre induction. It had been a sudden development, yet had ended up as a rather grand gesture with a large audience. Her own ceremony three days ago had been very much smaller: No audience, no official announcements, nothing. She was in the official Spectres list now, and everybody taking a closer look at it would notice. However, her appointment as Spectre was kept as low key as possible. The Council did not want her status to become widely known. After all, per unofficial agreement she would not report to all of them, but only to Chairwoman Goyle. And the Alliance had no desire to make her new status public, either. They were marginally glad that there was a human Spectre again, but that out of all people it was somebody who just had been dishonourably discharged from the Navy was a giant slap in the face for them. So of course they would not talk much about it.

She nervously paced in one of the Citadel's docking area, waited for the next ship to arrive and pondered what had happened. _From __convict __to __Spectre __in __a __matter __of __days__... _The recent weeks had been crazy like that. In all that turmoil, what with the Alliance first detaining her and Goyle then working to get her free, she hardly had had the time to mourn for Shepard and all the others who had died. In his battles he had seemed almost like a force of nature, and in his (in)fame and fights with the Reapers and with the Alliance maybe even somewhat larger than life. It seemed almost surreal that he would die basically out of sudden in a single enemy ambush. That a single attack had been able to do where thousands of enemies before had failed.

Maybe she had not properly mourned him. But Ashley was determined to fight for his memory now. She was sure he would appreciate watching that much more anyway. Before meeting him, she had done her utmost to be good enough for the Alliance, despite knowing that she would never be, that they would never really accept her or her family. Now, she knew the Alliance was not good enough for her - but maybe, she could do her part, in his name, that one day it would be. That was what he had called true patriotism: Not being convinced that your country or your species is right, but making it right and making it better. And Ashley had always been a patriot, one way or the other.

Of course, not everybody agreed with that. After she had quit the Navy and before the _Normandy_'s destruction, there had been a pretty tense exchange of mails with her mother. Her mother was a patriot of the old school, always supporting the state no matter what. She was aghast not so much that her daughter would want to end her military career - none of Ashley's sisters had joined up, after all, and that had never been a problem, despite the military traditions of family. But she was aghast that Ashley would, as she saw it, turn her back on the Alliance like that.

And eventually, all mail contact with her had ceased. She had simply stopped writing to Ashley at one point. With Admiral Hackett's tacit approval, Tali had hacked into the _Normandy__'__s_ communication system after the Battle of the Citadel and had enabled direct extranet contact, bypassing the military censorship authorities. So Ashley knew it could not have been that the mail had simply been withheld - there never had been any mail sent. And thus, for weeks Ashley had not talked with her mother, and that was something that troubled her greatly.

She looked up. The ship she was waiting for was just arriving in the dock. Fortunately not everybody in her family thought like her mother. And when the ship's doors she opened, she smiled when she saw Abby and Lynn emerging, her two next oldest sisters. A moment later, the two spotted her, laughed, and came walking toward her. Ashley was glad, but she was also not a little bit nervous about the news they would have from home.

"Hey, sis!" Abby shouted. They hugged when she arrived and she continued: "So is your new status a state secret, or can we should it aloud?"

"Considering the Alliance hasn't..." Lynn stated.

"She's right," Ashley said with a laugh and also hugged Lynn. "Better tell me about what's happening back home. That should be safer."

Abby said with a smirk: "You're not getting away that easily." The smirk vanished. "We need to talk, sis. Seriously. Mom..."

"Yeah, I know," Ashley answered. "Look, I got an inn room for you two, just get your stuff to there for now."

"And then let's find a good asari or salarian café where we can talk" Abby stated. "I mean, if we're on the Citadel anyway, might as well try some stuff."

Predictably, Lynn looked less enthusiastic about that prospect, and neither was Ashley. "I know just the place to go to," she said, though.

Ashley had selected this little café already long before her sisters had arrived, well knowing what the two would want. And it served that purpose perfectly: Outwardly, it simply was a normal asari café. However, in truth it was an asari café catering to human interest. Asari cuisine, but changed to accommodate human tastes, and also carrying human food. The establishment was prospering in this specialized market niche, which was also the merit of owners, who had proven to be adaptable and not a little bit cynical: Before the opening of the human embassy it had been an asari café catering to batarian interest.

So, about an hour later, Abby was happily devouring a large asari salad, while Lynn and Ashley had been able to order cappucinos. There was maybe something to be said for the cultural diversity on the Citadel, after all. Even if Ashley really wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"So..." Ashley began, "Mom. How is she?"

Her sisters both grimaced. "Still not quite over what has happened," Lynn answered.

"We visited her on the way to here," Abby explained. "We... that is, she and I... we quarrelled. It wasn't pretty."

_Of __course__. _Abby had always been the outspoken and somewhat rebellious one. Lynn continued: "I don't think she's still mad at you. She was, definitely, but now... I think she just doesn't know what to say to you."

"That's something," Ashley answered. "No, that's good. But I don't know what to say, either. After all, I can hardly apologize. I won't."

"Stubbornness runs in the family," Abby commented with a sad grin.

"It's not just mom," Lynn added. "Our cousins, too. Some cheer for Shepard, some condemn him. The whole family is divided. Most families seem to be these days..."

"Your Shepard caused quite some chaos," Abby commented. She displayed a mischievous smirk, but it immediately made way for a stone hard face. "It's a good thing. I've watched those records. What happened at Gagarin Station. And the testimonies on how those people were dumped and left with their pain for all those years. For god's sake, because it's all classified they couldn't even go see psychologists about it! And Conatix' lies about biotics have destroyed some family relationships permanently. Have you read the suicide statistics? Dreadful. Between the sheer trauma, the fact that nobody believed them, the never ending L2 pains, the ruined relationships to family and everybody they've ever known, the inability to get any amount of justice and the continued marginalization of biotics in society..." She breathed out. "Nearly a fifth of all BAaT survivors have committed suicide since '69. Major social unrest seems quite appropriate given that."

"I... I tried to watch the records," Lynn said softly. "I just couldn't. And the protests at university... I fear some day it will end like it did in Chicago, or in Cairo..."

Ashley nodded. Due to their father's military career they all had had to move every two or three years, and everybody had had to make new friends over and over again. Abby had faced that problem by becoming extroverted and flamboyant. Lynn, on the other hand, had retreated to her books and her studies. Which at least had paved her the path to university, but still there had always been something odd about the child of a longstanding military family being so timid at times. It was probably one reason they both had always got along with Ashley so well: She had always gone easy on Abby's rebellious streak and on Lynn's timidity, much more so than their parents.

"Maybe I'll find something to say to Mom. Eventually," she said. "Now, what about Sarah? How is she reacting to this all? She still replies to me, at least, but her mails sound more like mission briefings these days."

"She's... a bit confused, I think," Abby answered after some hesitation. "What with her plans to enlist in the Navy... I think ideally she'd just wish for it all to go away, for matters to go back when she could simply be eager to serve the Alliance and the family tradition and so on and so on. Come to think of it, that describes a lot of people, who'd rather close their eyes than... nevermind. At least Sarah doesn't. So hence, now she's conflicted."

"Sounds like her," Ashley said. "Always a honest girl, even when she was being annoying. I feel almost sorry for her. I was the same before I told Udina where to stick it. Always troubled, always going back and forth. And now I did the same to her. I almost think I should feel guilty."

"Don't!" Abby exclaimed.

"You really shouldn't," even Lynn agreed. "Shepard has been right about a lot of things. What he said about corporations, for example, that's just what I study." Ashley remembered how she had been dumbfounded about learning of Lynn's major: Macroeconomics. These days, that really was a niche field. "Statistically, smaller business units lead to more robust economies, less corruption and a smaller social divide. So somebody had to say it. Of course, unfortunately there's no real way to transform an economy without greatly damaging it. We're already feeling the repercussions of ExoGeni's downfall for example."

Abby grinned. "Our little professor..."

That caused Ashley to slightly grin, too. If Abby wanted to tease Lynn, Lynn would hold trump: Abby had left home very early on, even before she had turned 18, but it had taken quite some time for her life to get on the tracks. However, Lynn held her tongue.

It became apparent that the two now tried to cheer Ashley up. And it was good talking to them again. _Especially_ as it were exactly the two family members who seemed to agree with her about matters. But what with the news from home, and her anxiousness about her coming Spectre missions, some sorrows remained. Ashley was looking into the future with heavy concerns.

…...

The first thing Ashley had noticed about Terra Nova was the heightened security everywhere. Not only did there seem to be police patrols at every corner, they also seemed very well equipped. Considering the reports on how Terra Nova had just expanded its police forces very short-term, Ashley wondered where they got all the equipment from. Certainly there were no corporations that would be amiable to them.

It was a bit difficult to go explore every corner of Scott, Terra Nova's capital. Ashley had _tried_ to come in undetected, and that had worked for the first day, but somebody apparently had snitched to the colonial government, and now she had a handler from them: Captain Larisa Nevzorova of the Terra Nova Special Police Force. Ashley had to admit she actually was a charming person. She managed to have both military precision and yet also a warm, open character. And she tried to be as helpful as possible, at least on the surface. However, it was a bit annoying how she seemed to follow the Spectre everywhere. _And __no __doubt __informs __all __her __colleagues __when __I__'__m __nearby__._ Luckily Ashley had found ways to lose her now and then.

The recent creation of the SPF out of some few existing special trained teams, and the general expansion of the police forces were troubling. Terra Forma was arming up, and that in a real, military sense. In fact, the SPF did not seem that different from a small military force. It were worries like that why Goyle had sent Ashley to the colonies. And the Spectre had found the mood on Terra Nova to be very tense. Not everybody agreed with the colony's total devotion to Shepard's ideals, and even among those who did there were many anxious about the price to pay for that. Most people seemed to expect some big strike against them any day now, either by the Alliance government or the corporations, either in legal terms or by more direct action. Nonetheless, a majority still supported the course of the planetary government.

And worryingly, such a mixture of steadfastness and anxiety would of course lead to self-radicalization. If people were convinced to be in the right, but saw themselves threatened by the forces they already blamed for everything anyway, they would get only more convinced to strike at them. People in the streets were openly talking about expropriating the corporations and even also their owners, and the vid channels were full of cheerful introspection of this 'social awakening'. Of course, all this talk achieved on the economical level was a massive capital flight. And a failing economy would probably only further heat up the tensions.

Or, at least, that was what Goyle had told her at their last extranet call. Ashley herself had little experience in such political and economical matters. Which was why her next schedule point made her a bit nervous, a meeting with parts of the Terra Nova cabinet. If they were to talk about anything else than the security situation Ashley feared they would end up lost. _Maybe __I __should __have __hired __Lynn __as __an __assistant__..._

"Don't be so nervous." Ashley groaned inwardly. Of course Nevzorova was still at her side. They were in the backseats of a government limousine transporting them to the Ministry of Special Projects, Terra Nova's newest state agency. "They will trip over their feet to please you."

Ashley was a bit annoyed that her mood had apparently been so easy to read. That was not appropriate for a Spectre. _Then __again__, __Shepard __basically __always __wore __his __heart __on __his __sleeve__._ "That would be a sight to see. How do you figure?"

"They know Goyle sent you, and they know they'll go down without any support," Nevzorova explained. "They're desperate for allies, and they know Goyle sympathizes with them."

"Okay, point," Ashley admitted. "However, I'd rather not have them asking her for clarifications because her unofficial emissary was too stupid to follow even the most simple talks about politics."

Nevzorova chuckled. "If you don't understand a topic, evade it. If you're half as good as you've been at evading me, you'll get through just fine."

Ashley smirked. Once again, the Captain had a point there. _Too __bad __she __has __been __assigned __to __be __my __pain __in __the __ass__, __otherwise __I __might __have __come __to __like __her__. _"If only more military skills could be applied to politics." She paused. "That's more my forte. Stuff like close combat training or rifle specifics. Though, I've never seen any rifle like the one you're wearing. Or any of the other SPF guys."

It was not exactly a subtle approach, but Ashley's inquiries into where Terra Nova got so much mysterious equipment at once had not been successful in the slightest, so she thought she might as well try it with Nevzorova. Unfortunately, that seemed quite obvious to the Captain: "You must be getting desperate if you're asking even me." She chuckled again. "Sorry, can't tell without my superiors ripping my head off."

Ashley shrugged. _Asking __is __free__. _

The car entered a wide courtyard and came to a halt at the far side from it. A pseudo-baroque building surrounded the courtyard, a true oddity on the colonies. Ashley knew it housed some of Terra Nova's ministries. On Earth, government agencies would occupy parts of the super-skyscrapers most of the time, but the colonies worlds had truly endless space to be used as development sites. There was no real use to use towers here. Copying historical Earth styles was still a bit odd, the spacious use of land was not.

Unsurprisingly, overt security was even higher than it was in the city. Guards were positioned at every door. Their modern weaponry provided a stark contrast to the pseudo-historical architecture around them. A liveried servant opened the car doors for Ashley. She noticed that even now, when she was entering the building, Nevzorova was following her. Apparently she was authorized; at least the guards did not stop her. _I__'__ll __never __get __rid __of __her__..._

The servant, a graceful man showing first signs of ageing, led the two women through the building. Epic style ceiling paintings, overladen, garish stairs and way too much golden decor marked its interior design. _Somebody __must __have __paid __for __all __this__. _Ashley remembered Goyle's briefing on how most of the colonial politicians agitating against the corporations now had been in their pockets before. And overblown self-representation had always been a desire of rulers and politicians ever since the first stone age tribe had called a meeting to decide what prey to hunt.

Finally, the servant opened a richly decorated door to let Ashley and Nevzorova enter a conference room. A table, just as richly decorated and just as garish, stood in the centre of the well illuminated room. Three people around it were raising from their seats to greet Ashley.

"Welcome, Spectre Williams," the woman at the opposite end of the table said. "We are glad you could make it."

Ashley recognized her: Miriam Miller, the Minister for Special Projects. Her newly founded ministry was a wild, hastily assembled mix of experts, competencies and resources. Basically, she was responsible for fighting Terra Nova's new political battles, against the corporations and if need be also against the Alliance government. Precisely the issues Ashley had been sent to investigate.

Miller, who apparently took it for granted to be recognized continued: "The gentlemen at my sides are Njabulo Mbangwa, State Secretary for the planetary police forces in the Ministry of Interior and Liao Guiying, State Secretary in the Ministry of Economy. Please, be seated. You, too, Captain Nevzorova. There are, after all, also security concerns to be discussed."

Mbangwa smiled at Ashley and said: "Our respective ministers would have come, but a meeting with three ministers at once would have drawn too much attention."

"Be assured that we will cooperate you in whatever manner possible to us," Liao added.

"All right," Ashley said and struggled with words. Basically, she would only act as Goyle's mouth piece here, but even so finding the right words was difficult for her. She definitely was no politician or diplomat. Finally she continued: "Look, Chairwoman Goyle is very glad that _somebody_ is calling the Alliance government out on the stuff that needs to be done. But things seem very tense out there, so we're wondering if it's really good to further heat up matters."

"Those concerns are noted," Miller answered. "And we understand them, truly we do. However, we are in a bit of a dilemma: So to say, it is not enough to just sent some strongly worded letters to Arcturus Station. That would change nothing."

_It also wouldn't be __quite __such __a __show __to __the __voters__. _Nonetheless, Ashley knew Miller was right. "It's just that you're not really making her job on the Citadel any easier. There are also the alien powers to consider. They might use this instability as a chance to muscle their way in." Mbangwa and Miller exchanged looks at that. It was a barely notable, but Ashley caught it. She continued: "Besides, if she can't show any successes, her standing in Alliance politics will deteriorate."

"Right, I'm seeing what you're getting at," Mbangwa answered. "It's a problem. Goyle is probably our most important ally. But what would you or she have us do?"

"Ideally? Tone things down a bit," Ashley explained. "Calling the government out and restricting the corporations is fine and well, but you could do it with some less pressure and more gradual. Let it take some more time."

"Possible," Liao admitted, but his voice dripped with disdain at this idea. In an ironic tone he continued: "We could go about things a bit slower. Hell, maybe that way we'll win within just three or four years on purely political ways, with no further instability. It's true." His face darkened. "But would you really have us do that, Spectre Williams? Wait another five years, maybe another decade? Let the BAaT victims wait for so much longer after they have already without any hope of justice for fifteen years?" His flat hand hit the table. "Unacceptable! This isn't just about changing society. This about getting justice, now. Any further delay would be a further injustice."

Miller and Mbangwa looked at each other uncomfortable, obviously embarrassed by their colleague's rant. Ashley understood. She had few experience with politics, but she could read people. It was clear that Miller and Mbangwa were only in this for political gain. Liao, however, was fire and flame for his ideals, and that made him an embarrassment to some of his allies. And potentially, it made him a dangerous man. Still, despite his hostile tone, this made Liao immediately sympathetic to Ashley. _He__'__s __honest__, __at __least__. _And he was right, of course. People like Goyle and Miller always had 'political realities' and 'political necessities' in mind. As she served Goyle, Ashley would also keep that in mind, but purely emotionally she thought that they should just do what was right, as Liao apparently advocated. Shepard _definitely _would have agreed with him.

In the end, Miller was politician enough to keep up appearances: "Mr Liao is right, Spectre Williams. We have to do this now, go all the way, or it will just be forgotten again."

_Just __as __you__'ll __be __forgotten __by __the __voters __if __you __can__'__t __keep __this __issue __hot__. _However, again, even if it was probably not her first concern, Miller was right. "Yeah okay," Ashley admitted. "I knew one of the survivors. Yeah, they need justice now. I'm with you on that. But at least, can we make sure you don't drop any further bomb shells into Chairwoman Goyle's lap? So, if I may ask, what are your next planned steps?"

"In a way what you've said is true, Spectre Williams," Mbangwa answered. "We do need to slow down a bit. What we must do now is to secure our position. And I mean 'secure' literally. That is the reason for the heightened security everywhere."

"The Alliance government won't move against us," Liao explained. "It's still more concerned with its new pet Council, meaning no disrespect to its Chairwoman, it's under pressure over those issues from more sides than just us, and it really, really doesn't want a conflict with its own colonies. So the real problem are the corporations." The way he said that word he could as well speak about the legions of hell. "For them, it's either doing something or losing their most important colonial assets. Given that, we're very sure they're ready to consider extreme measures."

"And hence, so do you," Ashley stated. " 'Special _Police_ Force', right. You're building up a colonial military and arming it up quite heavily. From still unknown sources, too."

"So?" Miller just asked.

"Your normal police forces should be quite to deal with everything the corporations have," Ashley explained her position. "Unless they bring Eclipse or Blue Suns in, and then the Alliance will get pissed, too. So there doesn't seem to be much of an external enemy for that military force. I have to wonder if it may not be used internally."

"I don't like your tone," Liao said.

_And __truth __be __told__, __my __tone __could __have __been __better__. _Trying to correct herself, Ashley said: "I didn't say you're really doing anything sinister. Sorry for my tone, I probably didn't make myself clear. But if Chairwoman Goyle really is to support you, she has to be sure you are in fact better than the Alliance."

"Shouldn't be too difficult," Liao snarled.

However, Miller calmly answered: "We understand your concerns, Spectre Williams. However, they're entirely unfounded. Maybe a tour of the SPF could alleviate them? I'm sure Captain Nevzorova would be happy to act as your guide."

"Certainly, ma'am," Nevzorova confirmed. "I'm happy to be of assistance."

Ashley stifled a groan.

…...

If Ashley had still harboured any doubt about the SPF being a de facto military, it was swept away by the feeling of nostalgia she had while visiting their barracks. This was true military life, no doubt about that, with everything ranging from really boring routine service to repeated physical, marksman etc. training. A lot of training, in fact. The unit seemed really focused on achieving and maintaining a high standard of proficiency. Again, Ashley was stunned by the amount of high grade equipment she saw. The armour and weapons of the SPF were definitely military grade.

"I'm surprised that you would show me all this," she commented to Nevzorova, her inevitable shadow. "My respect to whoever built up the unit. However, this hardly calms my fears."

"Of course we'll show you everything," Nevzorova insisted. "I thought you'd understand it. It's a gesture: We have nothing to hide. If the colonial government really had any secret, ulterior designs they wouldn't be so open about the capacities of their security forces."

Ashley shrugged. She decided that she could as well test that theory. She abruptly stopped her brisk walk when she saw two 'policemen' hurrying by. She lightly grabbed one at the arm. Surprised, the two stopped.

"Sorry, ah, Corporals," Ashley apologized after a closer look at the men's uniforms. "Captain Nevzorova is leading me on an inspection tour through the SPF, and I thought you could answer some questions to me."

The man Ashley had grabbed looked unsurely to Nevzorova. "Ah... I... okay."

"Don't worry, Corporal Kumar," Nevzorova said. "Just answer her questions. Fully and truthfully. The same goes for you, Corporal Hernandez."

"Yes, ma'am," the two confirmed and turned their eyes to Ashley again. Kumar looked attentive, but Hernandez still looked nervous.

"Did you join up recently?" Ashley asked. Due to the rapid expansion of the "police" forces it was a good bet that both would have, and indeed both confirmed it. "So why did you do?" Ashley asked further.

Kumar shot a glance to Nevzorova, and when the Captain slightly nodded answered decisively: "Because of Shepard, ma'am. I mean, I used to be pretty supportive of the Alliance. I thought they could make us a great power. But in truth, they couldn't even protect their largest colony. And why? Because they had tried so damn hard to become a great power in fact, just as Shepard has said. It was him who saved us, and well... now he's dead. So this is the only way how Terra Nova can repay him."

Hernandez still hesitated, but finally spoke up: "My boyfriend's cousin. You should see him, ma'am. If not for modern medicine he couldn't even properly breath. As it is, he can hardly move and is often in pain." His face hardened. "Contaminated by eezo as fetus. The accident at the Phaeton refinery on Demeter in '66. Only that it never was an _accident__._" He spat the word out.

Ashley nodded. She had more or less expected such answers. However, before she could answer, Hernandez angrily continued: "I was once a proud Alliance colonist, too. But all that despicable stuff they and the corporations do... it's here in the colonies. And it's time the colonies make them _pay_ for it!"

That had Ashley be a bit taken aback. _Not __only __well __equipped__, __but __also __well __motivated__. __Zealous__. __A __dangerous __combination__. _"Seeing as how you already cause so many troubles," she continued, "how do you think things will go from here?"

"If I knew I'd be in the government, ma'am, not here," Kumar answered with a smile. "I trust the government, the planetary government I mean, will make good use of us."

Hernandez shook his head. "It's not that simple, Jag. Things will escalate further. And then we must be ready. Political manoeuvres are good and well, but I think force will be necessary."

Ashley's eyes narrowed. "And would you welcome that, Corporal Hernandez?"

Hernandez hesitated. "Nobody sane wants an armed conflict, ma'am. So I'd rather not have one, no. However - if it happens, I'll relish the chance to strike at the corporations and their ilk. Damn straight I will. None of them is any better than Conatix was."

_No__. __They __really __aren__'__t__. _Still, Hernandez' zeal made Ashley uncomfortable. "All right," she simply answered, though. "What about your weapons? Never seen those models before."

At the periphery of her eyes, Ashley saw Nevzorova flash a smile. Kumar answered: "Us, either, until they were handed to us. They're a bit complicated to handle and maintain, but their firing power is incredible. And hey, better a complicated weapon than none."

"Yeah, if Jag doesn't know, then I surely don't either," Hernandez added. "I'm just glad Terra Nova could spare resources for all this."

_And __that__'__s __exactly __what __I __doubt__. _ Terra Nova was the Alliance's largest colony, and it was a centre for platinum mining of galactic importance, but it still was just a polity of a mere four million people. To set it in relation, most single Earth metropolises were several times larger. _No_ colony should have been able to 'arm up' like this. However, of course the common soldiers would not be told any details about that.

"Very well, thank you for your time," Ashley said. "Proceed with... whatever you've done before."

The two men nodded, saluted Captain Nevzorova and left.

"Well, I hope this puts some of your fears to rest," Nevzorova said as the two women continued their walk.

"What?" Ashley exclaimed. "You've heard this Corporal Kumar. With his zeal..."

"That's just it," Nevzorova interrupted her with a warm laugh. "Few us are here for money or due to the government or anything. It's either all about ideals or all about Shepard. If the government were to abandon either, those people would not follow it anymore. Hardly the best material for an internal coup, or whatever it is you feared."

"Okay, point," Ashley admitted. "But if the SPF is full of people like him, then this won't help ease tensions at all."

"You said it yourself, this is a military unit, all pretences aside," Nevzorova countered. "Aggressiveness in the military? Unheard of!" She grinned.

"I don't..." Ashley began, however she was interrupted by a loud mechanical howling suddenly sounding all over the base.

"Combat alert!" Nevzorova hissed. Her friendly nature seemed to immediately disappear, as her face became sterner and her eyes focused. She typed something on her omni-tool. "Seems like a patrol discovered something out in the Ansuf Desert. Something big. Lots of weapons, lots of people looking like mercs." She smirked at Ashley, half-smugly and half-aggressively. "Still think the SPF is unnecessary?"

Ashley grimaced. "We'll see. In fact that is something I should observe, so let's go."

Nevzorova looked at her surprised, but then shrugged. "Right. Gear's in the car."

The two women joined the stream of 'policemen' leaving their quarters and proceeded towards their own aircar. It was a sturdy vehicle and much too large for just two people. That served its purpose, though: It held their gear, and it would be no problem to use it to travel all the way out to the desert. And the SPF aircars were the same model. In fact, with the armour and arms they had, they were like miniature light tanks. And to add to that, a small armada of heavily armed SPF copters were accompanying them. It was a true military strike force.

While Nevzorova steered the vehicle, Ashley quickly changed in her armour, which had been stored here in wise foresight. By the impatient glances Nevzorova shot to her, Ashley figured she was eager to get into her gear as well. Finally the two changed roles. Ashley steered the car over a hot, lonely, alien desert. The terrain below her was monotone grey and yellow rock, with stones and pebbles scattered everywhere, scorched by Asgard, Terra Nova's sun. Not even cactus equivalents grew here.

Nevzorova was at the steering wheel again when they reached the target area. Ashley first saw the gunfire and explosions before they noticed the facility at the centre of it. It was certainly big. A huge fenced in area with several prelab buildings and much equipment being stored there. All around it, SPF and regular police forces tried to force their way toward it, but they were repelled with heavy fire and even rockets. _What __the __fuck__? _The facility even seemed to have quite much in the way of anti-air defences.

"Get us closer," Ashley ordered Nevzorova. "I need to make some records."

The aircar made a wide curve downward, and Ashley began recording what she saw. The Terranovans were moving around the facility, trying to get into good tactical positions. Frontline combat was fierce. The Terranovans used rocks as cover for their advance, while the enemy, whoever it was, was bunkered in in its facility. The Spectre had her omni-tool display a tactical overview of the situation. It was disheartening to see how the Terranovans just could not get their superior numbers to bear. Ashley noticed that for all their good equipment and zeal, their tactics were rather unrefined. _They __probably __simply __lack __the __experience__._

However, another part of the problem certainly was the enemy's equipment. _Military __grade __weapons __and __equipment__... __this __just __should__n't __be __possible__!_ "What's going on there?" she asked.

"Our command post down there is near 100% sure we're dealing with mercenaries here," Nevzorova reported. "Nearly all humans, by the looks of it. All captured enemy equipment so far has been human in origin and brand new. You ask me, this stinks of corporate support."

"There's only one reason why anybody would store so much heavy equipment out here in the desert," Ashley said. "And I worried _the __SPF_ might be used for a coup!"

Nevzorova smirked smugly. Again. However, at least she had the good grace not to openly make any comment.

"You know, in my official job description as Spectre it says part of my job is to uphold public safety and order and all that," Ashley continued. "So to hell with just observation. I will not have a private army running amok here! As soon as the copters fly their next attack we're using that to go down and join the fight."

Nevzorova's smirk turned into a predatory grin, and a fire gleamed in her eyes. "Joining the fight, aye, ma'am."

The car flew right between the copters and then took a hard turn downward. Several rockets passed it, but between Nevzorova's incredible steering skills and the cover provided by the copters, none hit it during the downward flight. She slowed down for the landing - and an explosion tore away the back of the car. What remained of it crashed hard on the ground.

Ashley's belt strained hard, and something came flying to hit her on the helmet. Her senses dulled for a bit and then she was shaken again - the wreckage had hit the ground. Despite growing headaches, Ashley immediately freed herself from the belt and checked on Nevzorova. The Captain looked a bit groggy. Ashley opened her belt, too, and dragged her out of the wreckage. Slowly, she rose from it, looking around for enemies.

Around her was stone desert, debris from some lucky SPF hits in the area and an unbelievable amount of crates and other equipment. This was surrounded by several prefab buildings. Most notable was a sort of tower, from whose top rockets and anti-air missiles were being fired. A moment later, Ashley saw armed people approaching her position. She used the aircar's wreck as cover and began firing.

"Urgh..." Nevzorova muttered at her side, grabbed her own gun and joined Ashley. "As they say: They'll all come down eventually."

"We're in! Inside the fenced area, behind enemy lines," Ashley reported. "No use lamenting the crash."

The mercenaries returned fire, but their aim appeared weak and ineffectual to Ashley. Then again, so did Nevzrova's. After fighting geth, krogan and countless other enemies, some random mercenaries seemed an almost pitful opposition. When the last of them fell, Ashley's shields had barely been touched. "So much for them. Now we need to get to that tower. Shut down the rocket launchers."

"With all two of us?" Nevzorova asked.

Ashely hesitated. It only now occurred to her how crazy this was. _I __guess __that__'__s __Jon__'__s __influence __on __me__. __If __you__'__re __watching __up __there__, __make __sure __we __come __out __of __this __all __right__! _"We have to try. Trying to get out of here would be just as crazy. And if we're caught maybe I can still try to use my Spectre status to weasel us out."

"Ah, should've known," Nevzorova said. "Keeping you observed was fun, but of course there had to be a downside to it!"

Ashley shrugged. "Now, unless you have some expertise with the sniper rifle, I suggest you advance and I give you cover."

Nevzorova nodded and raised her weapon. She ran towards the nearest wall, pressed herself against it and slowly walked along it. Ashley kept her in sight of her scope, and also watched the Captain's surroundings for hostiles. Every now and then Nevzorova would stop and allow Ashley to catch up. For all her usual humorous demeanour, the Terranovan seemed to be sufficiently professional in what she did.

They reached the entrance to the building the rockets had been fired from. "This can't be that easy..." Ashley muttered. She stood next to Nevzorova, scouting the surroundings for enemies, while the Captain worked on opening the door.

It was pure instinct. As soon as Ashley saw somebody coming around the corner, she fired. She did not even notice it until the first shots had already been released. Immediately afterward, her mind kicked in. She saw half a dozen people approaching her and Nevzorova. _I __need __to __draw __them __away __from __her__. _It was a stray thought, but she desperately wished for some biotic support. _Who __am __I __kidding__? __I __wished __Wrex __or __Jon __were __here__. _Even without biotic vanguards present, though, there was really one option: Attacking. _If __they __pin __me __down __with __superior __numbers__, __I__'__m __lost__._

She charged toward the oncoming enemies. Using the debris, crates and pieces of equipment lying or standing around, she began to circle them. She ran from cover to cover, constantly firing. That got their attention, and just as planned diverted it from Nevzorova. On the downside, it meant Ashley now had to deal with them. Several shots depleted her shields. _I __knew __I__'__m __not __good __at __this __dancing __around __the __enemy __crap__. _She shifted her cover position again, and began to threw nearly all the grenades she had brought with , the mercenaries showed slow and uncoordinated reaction. _Rookies__, __most __likely__. __The __veterans __are __at __the __front__, __firing __at __the __SPF__._

She kept firing. When she looked up again, her face darkened. _Shit__! _A further dozen or so hostiles were coming from afar. _No __way __I __can __hold __out __against __them__. _Nonetheless, she positioned herself behind some barrels, determined to fight as best as she could.

"Williams, come! Quick! Door's open!"

She did not need to be told twice. She ran towards Nevzorova and into the tower. Once inside, the Captain closed and sealed the door. Both women breathed out in relief.

"If they haven't any explosives on them that door should stop them for a while," Nevzorova commented.

Ashley nodded. She had not even known the Captain would be so proficient with electronics, but she was glad it was the case. "We need to get upstairs. Quickly. Somebody on this base will have explosives!"

Resistance on the way up was sporadic. Simple metallic stairs went up round and round the inside of the tower, and only some single mercenaries now and then appeared to oppose them. In truth, it was more exhausting walking all the stairs upwards at a fast pace than to fight the mercenaries. Ashley and Nevzorova took turns covering each other, and advanced rapidly upward. At the top of the stairs, Nevzorova immediately began working on the electronic lock of the door leading outside.

"You know they will just mow us down when we come charging through that door?" she muttered. However, despite that she kept working.

"Which is why we won't do so," Ashley replied. "Let them come. We'll provoke them."

"Door's ready," Nevzorova reported.

The two took up positions besides it, and the Captain had it opened. Both managed to land some lucky shots at the surprised mercenaries up here. Those had either been too busy firing rockets, or too fascinated by the battle below them to pay any attention to the door behind them. However, resistance was soon forming up.

Pinned down yet again by enemy fire, Ashley looked for a way to alleviate her odds. At her side, Nevzorova's shots began to get a bit hectic, but the Spectre managed to remain calm. _Let__'__s __see __the __quality __of __their __products__. _She threw her last grenade in a high curve toward near one of the rocket launcher. It landed exactly where she had wanted it, right next to sloppily stored ammunition besides it.

The ensuing explosion did not take out all the launchers, but it threw the enemy into confusion. Heavy smoke suddenly was everywhere and the mercenaries hesitated. Or at least that was what Ashley assumed, as their fire rate lessened. The smoke began pouring inside the building, and she herself could hardly see her gun in front of her anymore.

Suddenly, in a rapid movement she stood up. There was something in the smoke. In the last moment she held up her gun with both hands to counter a savage blow against her. She heard a crunching sound as what appeared like a steel pipe or something came crushing down on it. Immediately, she began the counterattack, using the now useless gun to stab at the enemy's chest. She heard a satisfying "Oomph", took a step back and swung the gun like a club, sidewards. As she had hoped, it hit something heavy. The smoke cleared just enough for Ashley to see a female figure falling sideways. Ashley stepped forward to continue her attack, but the mercenary stumbled in haste down the stairs, fleeing.

The Spectre looked around. In a corner near the door, Nevzrova knelt and tried to keep up her fire, but she was caught in several coughing fits from the smoke. When Ashley came to her she said, under further coughs: "Take this." She offered her rifle. "You're better with it than I. I'll take my side arm."

Of course Ashley had a pistol with her, too, but the Captain was most likely right: She was a better shooter than her, so giving the rifle to her made sense. Besides, she would not look a gift horse in the mouth.

The rifle was... _strange_. It was one of the SPF standard rifles, one of those mysteries Ashley had so far been unable to solve. It looked like no gun she had ever seen, and it was still an enigma where Terra Nova could have acquired so many of them. And as she found out, what had been said about the gun was true: The accuracy and the handling were terrible, but the gun's punch and its firing rate were quite good.

Still, Ashley and Nevzorova were now not only outnumbered but also severely outgunned. A hard fight ensued. It was the SPF captain who shot the last remaining mercenary with her pistol. By that time, Ashley cowered against a wall, weakened by wounds in at least three different places. Her omni-tool had been shot, too, so she could not apply medi-gel the usual way. Nevzorova came to her to do so manually.

"Easy now," she said, "we managed it. Didn't think we would, but we pulled it off. Hell, whom am I kidding, you did." She worked her hands most carefully on Ashley's wounds.

"Next time I propose something as insane... knock me out and keep me down until I come to my senses again," Ashley managed to say.

"It's almost a pity there won't be a next time," Nevzorova answered, and it sounded almost more genuinely wistful than ironic. "I suppose you'll have a lot to report to Council Chairwoman Goyle now."

"I do," Ashley confirmed. She noticed how the medi-gel began to work. The pain lessened. She could straighten up a bit again, and her mind began to work properly again. She took a look at the gun in her hands, Nevzorova's gun. After a while she spoke up again: "No wonder this thing is so difficult to handle. What with all the cosmetic changes to it."

Nevzorova paused. "It... is kinda unwieldy built, isn't it?" But she did not sound genuine anymore. She realized the cat was out of the bag. And that of course only confirmed Ashley's suspicions.

"Poor accuracy, but good punch and firing rate..." Ashley mused. "I've seen many guns in my service with Shepard, and I know that profile. Strip away all the electronics and hooks on the outside, and this is a Haliat Volcano assault rifle. It's a cosmetically changed Haliat rifle, isn't it?"

Nevzorova hesitated. She stood up from Ashley's side and looked over the mercenaries' base. With the rocket fire gone, the SPF was rapidly winning superiority. She turned back again and faced Ashley with an icy glare. "Yes," she just said.

"So that's the secret," Ashley concluded angrily. "The turians are supplying Terra Nova. Perfect way for them to destabilize the Alliance. You bet I have much to report to Goyle!"

"And what exactly would that be?" Nevzorova shot back. "Oh yes, we accept turian help, and yes, the turians have ulterior motives for offering it. But look - " Her arms made a wide gesture spanning "- look at this. None of those facts matter. What matters is that we _need_ this help."

"And in return, the turians get what they want," Ashley argued, "a destabilized Alliance. Just as I've said: Aliens using this conflict to muscle their way into human space. And you've decided to become part of this!"

"So, what's the alternative?" Nevzorova demanded to know. "Should we let mercs run amok here? Maybe have them initiate a coup?"

"So you exchange one threat for a bigger one," Ashley said sarcastically. "And worst of all, a threat to all of humanity. An encouragement for humans to fight humans, which you accepted. For _your_ safety!"

"The turians are no threat!" Nevzorova argued forcefully. "They were nearly twenty years ago. And even then it was a misunderstanding." When Ashley snarled at that expression, Nevzorova backed off slightly. "Well, ah... anyway - do you _really_ think this would happen again? What's the likelihood of another turian attack? Meanwhile, what's the likelihood of an attack by corporate forces or mercenaries or maybe even Navy elements? Oh wait, you know the likelihood, you've just seen it!"

Ashley's stature slumped together. This was much to take at once. "I left the Alliance and joined Goyle to make it a better place. But there's no time to clean house while outside enemies are on the prowl!"

"And what, pray tell, is that prowl?" Nevzorova asked. "Gifting us weapons? Yeah, how damaging to humanity... no, wait, not really. Meanwhile, Feros, Noveria, all the shit the corporations pull with Alliance support or without it - hell, you've just seen it here. _That_ is _far_ more damaging to humanity! That's what really hurts and harms humans! So I'd worry more about _inside_ enemies!"

Ashley rubbed her forehead. She had to admit, Nevzorova had a point. _So__, __this __is __where __it __has __come __to__. __The __turians __supporting __internal __human __conflicts __with __weapons__, __and __that__'__s __not __even __the __less __bad __alternative__. __And __now __this __battle__... __an __outright __battle__... __what __will __happen __next__?_


	7. Ch5: Tisiphone

_"The personal, as everyone's so fucking fond of saying, is political. So if some idiot politician, some power player, tries to execute policies that harm you or those you care about, take it personally. Get angry. [...]Make it personal. Do as much damage as you can. Get your message across. [...] Time and again they cream your liquidation, your displacement, your torture and brutal execution with the ultimate insult that it's just business, it's politics, it's the way of the world, it's a tough life and that it's nothing personal. Well, fuck them. Make it personal."_

-Quellcrist Falconer in _Altered __Carbon_ by Richard K. Morgan

_"True peace is not merely the absence of tension: it is the presence of justice."_

-Martin Luther King

_"I don't even call it violence when it's in self defence; I call it intelligence."_

-Malcolm X

**888888**

**The following chapter may be ideologically offensive to some people - mind, then again I guess those people wouldn't follow my stories anymore anyway, but you never know...**

**888888**

The mood on Elysium was tense to the brink of explosion. People were talking agitated on every corner of the streets, and there was only one topic: The Battle of the Ansuf Desert. The main human media channels on the extranet tried to keep it down as much as possible, but hardly anybody on the colony ever used them for news anymore. Various asari news outlets had seen and seized the opportunity and now offered human focused programs, bringing news from human space to a human target audience, but through an asari outsider view many people trusted more to be objective than they trusted human media these days.

So on Elysium, there was no playing things down. Elysium boiled. There was no doubt in the colony's collective mind who had been behind the 'mysterious' mercenaries camp in the Terranovan desert. All that equipment found there - brand new human military equipment - could only have come straight from its producers, from various human corporations. It seemed clear now they were entirely willing to use violence if it could keep dissent in line. And the backlash was unbelievable. The colonial parliaments of Terra Nova, Elysium and Eden Prime openly discussed expropriation of corporate property. Public figures on the three colonies were lamenting the lack of protection the Alliance offered, and some demanded radical steps to change that. There had been three instances of mobs burning down corporate offices already on Elysium. Fortunately, nobody had come to harm because police always had arrived timely enough on the scene - however, it had always seemed strangely lacklustre to also protect corporate property. And that even though the colony now suddenly, within days of news of the battle, had a Special Police Force of its own, fully armed and equipped with the same sort of equipment as Terra Nova had.

In short, the colonies were arming up while their people demanded to strike at the corporations _right __now_. Everything in the Alliance seemed to go to hell.

And Tisiphone was enjoying it _intensely__._ **[1]**

She had thought it all over when she had heard the news of Shepard's death. The man who for the first time in fifteen years had given her a glint of hope was suddenly gone. The man who had been so enraged by the injustices done against her and her fellow victims that he had dared to directly go against the Alliance, and to hell with the consequences. Not for his sake, or the for some deeper purpose but simply because it had been the right thing to do. Simply because he thought the mass abduction and torture of children, including the death of some, and its fifteen year hush-up _should _cause such a reaction in every decent person. He had been unique, and after he had died, Tisiphone had assumed everybody would forget about her and the other BAaT survivors again. Just as everybody already had for fifteen years straight.

She had tried to throw herself into her work, but there had been only so much to do at the crammed, hidden installation in deep space Shepard had basically gifted to Kyle's group. The former Major himself, who despite his less than stable mind did truly care for all of his followers, had been visibly anxious and worried about her. She had thought she had lost everything, yet again, and she had possessed no outlet for her restlessness.

But then _this_ had happened. The crisis in the Alliance. The escalation. People were even willing to dance at the brink of violent confrontation over the topic. Finally, after all the time. _It__'__s __beautiful__, __no __doubt __about __it__. __Just __beautiful__._ For the first time in years, Tisiphone was well and truly moved by humanity. Even if it was just the smaller part of humanity. _Maybe __humanity __is __actually __redeemable__. _Her thoughts hardened. _But __not __the __Alliance__. __The __Alliance __needs __to __be__ destroyed__. _She knew _that_ was a utopian dream, but that meant she simply would enjoy every defeat of the Alliance, every bit of trouble it went through, every setback it suffered. She did see the Alliance as enemy, and why not? After all it had been the Alliance who had first struck against her. What loyalty did she then owe to them?

In fact, very soon now she would have the chance to do her part towards that end. A strike for biotic rights, directly against the Alliance. And, just to add insult to injury, something actually organized by the Alliance's _very_ _own __Councillor__. _A wry smile flashed up for an instant on Tisiphone's lips. She was enjoying this all very much indeed. She could hardly await the night. The only negative thing was that Goyle had told her that during the day they would get a new expert, somebody versed in technological matters. She had not liked that one bit. She knew everybody in her group. She had gone through several instances of _direct __action _**[2]** with any of them. This night would not be the first time she had employed violence. She was no rookie in this, and she had no patience or trust to have any rookie 'experts' in her group. However, Goyle had assured her that person would be absolutely, totally devoted to Shepard's ideals. And since the Councillor was the instigator of the whole action, Tisiphone would have to be content with that.

It had been totally unprofessional, but after several hours in the group's hideout, Tisiphone just had to go out. She had been so full of energy like rarely before and her undirected pacing had annoyed quite a few of her comrades. Besides, she just had to see, had to _feel_ the mood in the colony. And she had not been disappointed.

Of course, there were always some trying to justify the crimes. There were always some egoists who would rather wallow in an illusion that their society is superior, instead of facing the crimes it has committed. After all, it was very easy for them to dismiss the atrocities. They had not suffered them.

Tisiphone walked by several one family houses. At other times she, as an Earthborn, might have marvelled at the luxurious use of space, but now she was reminded how Michael had lived in a house like these. Before he had come to Jump Zero. Where he had met Jeanne **[3]**. Where he had died. Tisiphone remembered her utter helplessness, her utter impotence to do anything about it after they all, the survivors, had been dumped in '69. She had basically screamed for people to listen, but nobody had. Nobody had cared what had been done to her. Nobody had cared for the dead children. Nobody had cared and nobody would care for all the pain she and the others would still suffer, because of what had been forced onto them.

Nobody had ever cared. And now conservative news screeds called the efforts of Eden Prime and Elysium treason, called Shepard a traitor. For wanting justice. After everything the Alliance had done to her, to dozens of others. Once again, it all came to Tisiphone at once. How she had been abducted. How she had not seen sunlight for years in her prison far out near Pluto. How she had not seen her parents for years, because as she had learned later Conatix had blocked all visits and had spread lies about the biotic kids. How the turians... _the __turians__... _How they all then had been dumped, and she had not been able to even try to see her parents again, and due to the classification of events no psychologist would see her, either. Even that was refused to her.

All that rushed into her mind. How... _Oh __god__. __Not __now__. __Not __here __in __public__. _Tisiphone's heart began to race. But enough how she would always stand out because of her height, if she had a flashback and a fit of panic and rage here in public and now everybody would remember her, and that a mere hours before the direct action. She breathed heavily and haggardly. Her vision seemed to blur as a blind, furious rage echoed through her mind. A strangely undirected rage against everything and everybody, a primeval need to simply smash everything she saw around her. She wanted _vengeance_ and was confronted with her impotence to ever gain it. That was the worst part. She had lived fifteen years with that impotence, this helplessness to ever get justice. She only had frustration and anger and ever so often it would just well up and overwhelm her.

She gnashed her teeth and suppressed a howl, all the while unsteadily walking back towards the hideout. She had to get out of public, now. All muscles in her ached for a fight, for _destruction_. She barely had the self-control to get out of other people's way, but she knew in her state she could see the slightest odd view as a provocation and totally lose all self control. _All __this __hate __in __me__... _she blamed the Alliance for it for obvious reasons, and this only made her hate and anger grow more. The Alliance had killed Jeanne, and had left a wound with Tisiphone that would never, ever close. All she could hope for was to _hurt_ them before inevitable going down in some fight. She could not be made whole again anyway.

Somehow she managed to stumble back to the hideout. She hoped nobody had followed her. She was not in a state to check. The others immediately knew what had happened. They knew her. Comforting arms closed around her, while finally Tisiphone could howl out her rage to the sky.

…...

_Dun__-__dun__-__dun__-__duuuh__..._

The famous first sounds of Beethoven's symphony no. 5, first movement, again poured through Tisiphone's earphones, while she sat in her tiny room in her group's hideout. _Thus __fate __knocks __at __the __door__._ It seemed fitting to her. The symphony started on that dark note but eventually reached a surprisingly uplifting fourth movement. _Per __aspera __ad __astra__._ In her case that was of course wishful thinking. There would be no happy fourth movement for her. She would never be able to cast down the Alliance and extract true justice. But at least she would be able to do some harm now, and that thought had helped her to come down from her rush. It would have to be enough.

Something from the outer room disturbed her music. Something was going on there; it sounded unrestful. With a sigh, Tisiphone rose - and nearly would have fallen back on her seat again. A sudden flash of searing pain had hit her head. _Not __that__, __too__. __Not __now__. _But then of course, this had been going on for fifteen years. One more thing to accuse the Alliance of. One thing why any suggestion of her 'getting over it' was ridiculous. BAaT was long over. But not only the memory, also the pain remained. She would have to grab some painkillers, but first she had to look at what was happening and what caused the unrest.

When she entered the outer room, with her eyes flinched together to a narrow stripe and her hand rubbing her forehead, she saw much commotion in it. People were surrounding something or somebody. They moved agitated, and there also were some shouts. Finally, one of the group, a small man she only knew by his given name, Yong, spotted her.

"A quarian," he shouted to her, "they've sent us a goddamn quarian!"

Tisiphone made her way through the group, and indeed she saw a female quarian standing there. Where most of her species had rather simple envirosuits, this one had adorned hers with pieces of purple cloth. She had her arms crossed in front of her and seemed quite unmoved by all the unrest in front of her. There was something familar about that pose.

"Tisiphone," she just greeted the biotic - who recognized the voice. She had only heard it shortly, but that at a very important moment.

Tisiphone looked at Yong. "No, not just any quarian." Then she turned to the group. "Ungrateful fools! This quarian was with Shepard when he gave us our current home base." Lots of 'Oh's and embarrassed looks followed. Tisiphone turned to quarian again. "Talia, I think the name was?"

"Tali," the quarian corrected her. "Our benefactor has sent me to here. Given the reception I got, I was a bit unsure I had reached the right address."

Tisiphone smirked. "You're far from home. A long trip just to get us an electronics expert."

Tali hesitated a bit. Her icy demeanour seemed to warm up a bit. "It was a request I could not refuse," she said somewhat enigmatically. "The action is scheduled to begin in a few hours. We should get ready."

It was a valid point, and indeed everybody began to assemble their gear, to check their weapons over and over again, or went through the mission plan again. So did Tisiphone, but Tali's presence still bothered her a bit. The quarian had been with Shepard, so she could be trusted, but her being here still was very odd. So after a while, she approached her alone.

"Excuse me if I still do not quite understand," she began, "but your presence here is puzzling."

"I suppose it is," Tali admitted without great enthusiasm. She was typing something on her omni-tool.

"If I understand your culture correctly, the Admirals must have given you leave," Tisiphone continued. "I wonder why that is."

Tali stopped her work and looked up. "Our benefactor has promised a handsome reward to the Fleet for my use here, and has paid all transport costs. Besides, given her position, the Admirals thought it wise to be in good standing with her."

"She paid for you, and rather much, too, apparently?" Tisiphone asked. "Why? I mean, I'm sure your talents with the omni-tool are outstanding, but surely a human hacker would have worked as well."

"My talents _are_ outstanding," Tali confirmed brazenly. "But more to the point, our benefactor is risking very much with all this. If the Alliance should find out, she would be in deep trouble. End of her career for sure, maybe even deadly trouble. She could not entrust the mission to a random human hacker. She needed somebody she could rely on."

"And she can on you?" Tisiphone pushed on. "Please excuse my persistence, but just why are you in all of this? You call her '_our_ benefactor', but you're an outsider. It's not your fight."

"It's _Shepard__'__s_ fight," Tali replied with some aggression. "And his fight is my fight. If I can contribute to it, I will."

Something made click in Tisiphone's mind. Carefully she said: "You and him...I already suspected something on Presrop, but you actually were... together?"

"Yes," Tali just confirmed. "Is that a problem for you?"

Tisiphone growled slightly. "A problem? For me? It would be a problem to all of those retarded 'humanity fuck yeah' types. The same sorta people who... well, you know. You've been on Presrop, after all. Listening to the stories. It's those kinda people who'd have problems with that. Me, I... I just never really considered that."

"Jon told me it had been much the same with him at first," Tali said with a mixture of sadness and nostalgic amusement.

"Hell, if it angers the humanity first crowd I'm even all for it," Tisiphone continued. "Fuck'em. I just wished... I just wished everybody could be happy, so if you two were..." She shrugged.

"Jon had a very high opinion of you. I can see it was justified," Tali answered. "Our benefactor knew I would never sell her out, no matter what. No matter any prices offered or threats made. So she invested heavily in getting me here."

"Welcome aboard then," Tisiphone said. "Let's strike at the Alliance. For Shepard."

…...

Actually, the strike would not really go directly against the Alliance. Not against a government building, or a a navy base, or any other Alliance institution. However, it would hopefully still bring down an Alliance scheme, one of those wonderful illegal behind the doors deals that showed how rotten the Alliance still was. And if it succeeded, it would be a great help to biotics.

The overall political situation in the Alliance was chaotic. The protests on Earth, the dissenting colonies and Goyle's Council all had put much pressure on the Alliance government to finally, _finally_ investigate the matter of BAaT. However, so far the government had always ignored this pressure, and of course this had only further fanned the flames. And now, after the Battle of the Ansuf Desert, there simply was no evading the matter anymore. However, even now the government tried at best symbolic gestures. No talks about extended reparations to the victims or about tribunals to get them justice. Just small steps to divert attention.

One of those was the government's solemn promise to disband the database it had on biotics and biotically gifted people in its space. Using that database, the Alliance had been able to keep tabs on biotics and watch them very closely. An additional layer of surveillance non-biotics did not have to put up with, a control instrument against BAaT survivors, and of course a convenient list for potential recruitments. Should the Alliance ever decide on a compulsory draft for biotics, it would be able to use that database. However, following the Battle of the Ansuf Desert, as a 'gesture of good will', the government had announced to disband and delete it.

Only that, to the surprise and shock of absolutely nobody in the know, it did not actually intent to do that. The official database would be deleted, yes. There would even be a great show, demonstrating how the files could not be found anywhere on government computers anymore. But already now a copy of it had been sent to a cabal of corporations, who had been charged with maintaining it and keeping it updated. It was all just a giant scam.

Fortunately, Council Chairwoman Goyle had found out about this, and had taken steps to thwart that scheme. As it so happened, the Alliance government could not flood the entire extranet with the data. They could not even make and distribute too many copies of it. After all, information and data got their value from exclusivity. People always said the extranet does not forget, but in fact with privileged or restricted information it could. And that was exactly what Goyle intended to happen.

She had found out that a copy of the databanks on biotics had been transferred to Elysium, to a server of Hoshichiri Heavy Industries. Hoshichiri was one of the biggest human corporations, essential to the Alliance due to its several mining interests in the colonies, but also big in industrial manufacturing. Since it owned most of Terra Nova's invaluable platinum mines, it was chafing especially hard under the new anti-corporate sentiment there and elsewhere, and there were many accusing the company of having supported the mercenaries in the Ansuf desert. So it was little wonder they would cooperate with such a government plan.

Goyle's counter to that plan was relatively simply and straight forward: Tisiphone and her team would get Tali inside the corporate facility, where she could access Hoshichiri's internal network, delete the databank and upload a virus that would scour the network for even more copies and delete them, too. Then the group would physically blow up the facility's servers, and make a clean getaway. Hopefully. Goyle had said she knew somebody who knew somebody who could twist the arm of some people at the facility, so hopefully there would be less guards than normal. But she had not been able to make any promises.

In any case, the facility the servers were located in had been well chosen. With its high walls, cameras, drones and barbed wire everywhere, it looked like a forbidden fortress, right in the middle of an industrial area. There was no way Tisiphone's group of nine people could storm it in an open assault. So instead, they used the most cliché way possible of infiltration: They walked through the local canalization. Goyle had provided them with maps of it. Seven people, plus Tali, four male and three female, six of them biotics and three of them BAaT survivors. All of them armed and with weapons drawn, walking in a single file.

Finally, they reached the exit that would hopefully lead them to the Hoshichiri facility. Tisiphone spoke up: "All right everybody. Be careful now. You know the drill: If we should be found out, we have no benefactors, no connections, nothing. If we are captured, even Tali here will be a rogue refugee from the Fleet. And yes, local police doesn't like Hoshichiri overly much. Doesn't matter. They'll still chase us, so don't get your hopes up. We need to make a clean entry, strike hard and fast, finish our objectives quickly and then make a fast fighting retreat. Understood?"

Various 'ayes' and nods and the like responded to her. Tisiphone opened the hatch above her and moved out of the canalisation. As planned, she found herself in a small, quiet backyard within the wider facility. It proved to be barely large enough to hold all eight people in the group. From there, the group moved silently into a larger inner yard. Keeping close to walls and buildings, they remained in a single file, aiming their guns all around them, keeping everything under observation. However, no security personnel seemed to be present. Goyle's contacts seemed to have been productive.

There still was electronic security: Surveillance cameras, electronic locks, alarm systems. However, all those things might as well have not been present at all. With just some few simple commands on her omni-tool Tali disabled them wherever they went. Tisiphone realized that the quarian had spoken the truth: Her talents were in fact outstanding. Most likely she would eat the security protocols in Hoshichiri's internal network for breakfast.

They managed to approach the facility's electronic command centre without seeing a single guard. However, their secrecy would only go so far. That was the part of the plan Tisiphone did not like at all: It only relied so much on stealth. There would be a battle, and hence their exit would in fact have to be a fighting retreat. However, she also realized there was no alternative to that. They had to enter that room, if only to blow up its servers once Tali would be done, and of course it would be guarded.

Tali looked up from the lock and nodded. Tisiphone raised her hand, made sure everybody was alert - and then waved the attack.

The security guards had no chance. Only six of them were in the room, and they were immediately hit with a barrage of bullets and dark energy. Tisiphone supposed she should feel sorry for them, since after all they were merely doing their job. There was no telling if they were bad people, if they would obey every order. But purely emotionally, she could not muster the sympathy. The Conatix guards at Jump Zero after all had only done their job as well. It was not exactly a fair comparison, but then this was not her rational ethical judgement, just her gut reaction. Rationally, she justified it with that this after all was what security was hired and got money for. And thus she growled as she hit them with everything she got. Dark energy flowed through her arms, as pressure built up in the inside of her head.

Immediately after the last guard went down, Tali began to work on the computers in the room. Tisiphone's group began to split up: One person stayed right next to the quarian, as her personal guard. Another one began to rig the electronics to blow them up later, and a third did the same to one of the room's two doors - if security guard tried to come from there they would get a nasty surprise. That left Tisiphone and three of her people to concentrate on guarding the remaining door. For a group only working together now and then, with hardly any training, it was a nice display of professionalism.

Tisiphone nervously handled her gun while trying to keep every angle around herself covered. She hated having to wait, but for the moment being it was Tali's show, so her own first priority was to keep the qurian protected. Still, it took a toll on her nerves. Nothing happened and she struggled with her own forced inactivity - until everything seemed to happen at once.

"Got it," announced Tali - and at the same time, security guards were storming in from the door opposite of Tisiphone's. The explosive charges attached to it proved useless.

In an instant, Tali threw a grenade at the approaching enemy force, and then ran towards the other door. "They must've hacked the charges, let me see if the ones at the servers are clear," she told Tisiphone.

Tisiphone cursed. She waved her people to take cover behind the door. "They mustn't reach us or the servers!" she told her people. "Bullets or biotics, just keep them in their door frame!"

By that time, the shields of several in the group had already faltered. The enemy force was surely two or three times larger, and were held up only by the bottleneck situation they faced. With circumstances like that, Tisiphone wondered how they'd ever get out of the facility again.

"_Bosh__'__tet__!"_ Tali cursed. "I had to set off the charges, to keep them from being disarmed. Detonation time in... less than thirty seconds. Run!"

Tisiphone's group did just that. Hastily and in panic, everybody turned and ran. Several of them were hit by enemy bullets in this state of confusion. As the group ran aimlessly through the building, half of them were injured. At least two needed medical attention beyond just medi-gel, and that fast. They felt the extreme ends of the explosion's shockwaves in their back. _At __least __the __mission __is __a __success__. __Now __we __just __need __to __get __out__._

This proved to be difficult, though. As soon as they left the building, a searchlight hit them. "This is the Elysium Special Police Force. Surrender now, or we will be forced to employ lethal means."

_SPF__? __I__'__ll __enjoy __the __irony __once __we__'__re __out __here__. _After all, whether on Elysium or Terra Nova, the SPFs had been founded as a way of covertly arming up, mostly against the large corporations. However, officially they still were the 'SWAT teams' of their respective police forces, so of course they would also handle cases such as this - even if it meant protecting such corporations.

She looked at her people, exhausted and wounded, and for a while considered surrender. Surely, as the Elysian authorities were vaguely sympathetic with their aims, they would not treat them too badly and the injured people would get the medical aid they needed. Then again, none of them had actually anything lose. Tisiphone knew that feeling, to have nothing worth living for. _And __what __about __Goyle__? __Or __Tali__? _Chances were if the team was captured somebody would drop the Council Chairwoman's name, and even if not, Tali in any case would have a life of exile before her, as the Migrant Fleet would have to deny any involvement. _Like __hell__. __We__'__ll __go __down __fighting__. _

"Get cover," she shouted, "let them chase us! Don't become too easy targets!" She bared her teeth. _The __hunt__'__s __on__. _

The group fled through several smaller backyards. Tisiphone could hear commotion and unrest behind them, following them. Their predators were catching up to them. And she had no idea which ways to use in this part of the facility, no idea where they could enter the canalisation underneath.

They arrived at a building near the facility's wall. Several large barrels were stacked near it. "Get in cover here! Await them here!" Tisiphone ordered. _Might __as __well __make __our __stand __here__. _

Everybody obeyed, including Tali. However, she still looked around everywhere, scanning for ways to escape the situation. And apparently she found something: "Tisiphone? I think we can use those vehicles."

She pointed along the facility wall. Through an opening between it and another building small shuttle craft could be seen on an adjecent yard. Tisiphone had to admit it was worth a try. _And __if __anybody __can __get __them __open __and __running__, __it__'__s __her__. _ "All right everybody, you heard her. Run for it!"

By then the hostile forces, Hoshichiri guards and SPF, had already closed up to them. A hail of bullets followed the group's run. In the end, Tisiphone and Yong had to drag another woman behind them, who was close to unconsciousness. Hastily, they loaded her into the shuttle. As Tisiphone had predicted, Tali had already beaten its lock in no time and was sitting in the pilot chair.

The small craft, designed for only six people, became quite overcrowded. Tisiphone was wedged in between wounded, moaning people and nervous, sweaty people. However, she found that quite acceptable as long as the shuttle would take them away.

"Where are we going?" she asked Tali.

"Away," the quarian simply answered. "Huh, this thing has shields. Good for us, I suppose."

_Shields__? __I __wonder __what __Hoshichiri __was__ planning__. _And it was a good thing indeed: As the shuttle rose into the air, it was hit several time by fire from the ground. Such a hail hit it that its shields overloaded, and the bullets could penetrate the hull underneath. However, no critical systems were hit. The engines whined loudly as Tali accelerated the shuttle to full speed, quicker than any of the safety locks removed by her would have allowed. It darted away, simply straight away into the night.

"So, do you have any ideas where to go?" she asked Tisiphone.

The biotic pondered this. _Elysium__. __Sympathetic __to __our __cause__, __but __for __now __hostile __territory__. __No __holdouts __here__... __no __wait__, __there __is __one__. _"This thing, has it space capacities?" she asked.

"Uh..." Tali answered surprised. "Orbital at best. I wouldn't try to land on the local moon, much less try to reach other planets. Anything less than that should be okay, though."

"Perfect," Tisiphone answered. "Where do you think they'd welcome biotics on the run?"

It took a moment, but then it hit Tali. After all, she had said that Shepard's fight was her fight, so she probably had followed the news. "Grissom Station. The occupied Ascension Project."

After Shepard's leak of the BAaT files, a wave of outrage had hit the Alliance. The current escalation was in a way still based on that initial outrage. Much of it had been against the Alliance, but unfortunately, in a telling and condemning statement about humanity, most of it had been against Shepard. However, in the biotics' community, among the people most directly affected by all that, things had been different. Among them, there had been a near unanimous condemnation of the Alliance. And so, several instructors of the Alliance's Ascension Project, some of them BAaT survivors themselves had gone on strike, and they and some older students had occupied the parts of Grissom Station housing the Ascension Project. Since most parents had recalled their children, and most new enrollments had been cancelled after the publication of the BAaT files, the protesters hence held an empty part of an orbital space station occupied. They had done so for months already, further protesting the Alliance's crimes. _If __we __don__'__t __find __sanctuary __there__, __where __else__?_

The shuttle turned its nose upwards and rose into the starry sky, as much as the extra weight of its too many passengers allowed.

…...

Of course, approaching a partially occupied space station unannounced was not exactly unproblematic. It took many irritated calls, several waiting circles and many rerouting attempts, until they could approach a docking bay that was in the hands of the protesters. This all took about an hour, and yet strangely, as soon as they had left the atmosphere, nobody was chasing them. Tisiphone did not doubt that the Elysium SPF would have had the ability to do so, but most likely they chose not to. And in an ironic twist of fate, considering that the Three Colonies also complained about the lack of protection the Alliance offered, there was no Navy warship in orbit, either. It had something of poetic justice.

When Tisiphone finally got to leave the overcrowded shuttle, she entered a small docking bay, hardly larger than the shuttle itself. And unfortunately, it seemed just as crowded as the shuttle itself. Agitated and shouting people were everywhere, curious about the new arrivals, anxious to see them. However, after a moment, the crowd quieted down. A man made his way through it. He appeared more worn down, more exhausted than he should be at his age, weighted down by a life of hardship and injustices. Hardships and injustices Tisiphone knew very well, just as he knew that man. His eyes widened. _Traitor__! _Or not anymore; she had followed the news, had seen what he was up to, how he had finally denounced BAaT.

She knew she and her group were dependent on his goodwill, yet she could not hold herself back. "Mitra," she said icily and full of disdain. "I see you have turned your back on your Uncle Tom ways."

The crowd shouted. Tisiphone had apparently managed to provoke them. And Mitra Hendel**[4]**, security chief of the Ascension Project on strike and BAaT survivor, paused. His brows narrowed. "You must have a pretty good reason to come barging in like this if you think you can allow yourself statements like that."

It really had not been the wisest thing to say. However, it had been the first time Tisiphone had seem Mitra since Jump Zero in the person. She had known what he had been doing all the time already before, and she detested it. She loathed him for it. Him, and others like him. It had been a great shock to be told that her hero of youth, Kaidan Alenko, had in fact joined the Alliance Navy. _Joined __the __Alliance __Navy__, __despite __all __the __crimes __committed __against __him __and __me __and__ others__!_ As if the Alliance somehow had a right to do so and now everything was okay! Shepard would say that after all Kaidan and Mitra had just been victims, too, and hence should not be blamed. And they had been, Tisiphone knew that very well, just as she had been. But to her that made it only worse, it made those people traitors. It was maybe a bit odd for her, an African, to think so about people of European and Asian descent, but whens he thought of Kaidan and Mitra, the historical term 'house negro' came to her mind.

Either way, she would not regret speaking the truth, no matter the outcome. She would hold her ground. "Since as we all know solidarity with your fellow victims has never been your strong suit, I can thus indeed hardly expect you to act simply on that. As it is, I ask you for help and sanctuary because we just succeeded in a big strike for biotic rights."

"Seeing in what way you arrived here, you mean you have created more trouble," Hendel observed coolly.

"I did," Tisiphone admitted. "Do you seriously have a problem with that?"

Interrupting the conversation with a groan, Tali made herself heard. She spoke up sarcastically: "Maybe we can skip the part where we try to kill each other with sheer coolness? Let's discuss this in civil manner."

Hendel only now seemed to notice the quarian. He looked at her surprised. "It's not that easy. People are nervous and will only become more so... ah. But you haven't heard the news, have you?"

"The news?" Tali asked.

Mitra nodded and raised his omni-tool. A holographic image appeared. It seemed to be from one of the human targeted asari news channels. An image of a planet appeared, and besides it an asari speaking.

_"The colonial government of Terra Nova, in a common session of parliament and cabinet, has with a 2/3 majority passed and proclaimed a Declaration of Non-Compliance, to take effect immediately. Starting from today, the colony of Terra Nova will not be following instructions from the Alliance government, stop all financial payments, and will pass laws regardless of the legal situation in the Alliance._

_The Terra Novan government has assured that this is not a secession, that they still consider themselves part of the Systems Alliance and that this is only a temporary measure. They have announced they will remain non-compliant with the Alliance government until such a time as investigations into BAaT are started, tribunals are held, reparations are paid and until investigations are started into corporate involvement in the Battle of the Ansuf Desert. Furthermore, they demand greater protection by the Alliance Navy, tighter market regulations and anti-trust laws and more employee friendly labour laws._

_After months of the Alliance government ignoring the demands from Terra Nova, Elysium and Eden Prime, it is now widely believed that it has been the Battle of the Ansuf has finally pushed Terra Nova over the brink. In the current crisis it so far has always been the most radical of the three colonies, as a majority of its population sees the Alliance as having failed them in the X57 incident. Furthermore, for several years already, the colony's dominant mining industry has seen several labour disputes between the miners and the companies owning the mines. So it is not surprising Terra Nova now would be the first colony to take such drastic action._

_Still, it bears repeating: Terra Nova, humanity's largest colony, had just declared itself to be in non-compliance with the Alliance government."_

The docking bay fell silent.

**8888888**

**[1]**Remember her? Tisiphone was introduced in Chapter 19 of TFHS. A BAaT survivor and member of Majoy Kyle's cult, and implied part-time biotic terrorist. While personally not believing in Kyle's cult of personality, she took part in it because it offered a home and community to several desperate biotics, some simply shunned and ostracized by society and others BAaT survivors themselves.

**[2]**I.e., terrorism.

**[3]**Tisiphone as child.

**[4]**From the novel _Ascension_. (What is this _Deception_ you speak of? ;) )

**8888**

**Well, that was kinda fun. Yes, our protagonists are terrorists, and _Tali _took part in a terrorist attack. Hey, don't say I didn't warn you! But it was fun to write so much hate. I have been told my story is already so full of it, but it seems a so much more appropriate and even satisfying reaction than the (to me) utterly, utterly depressing passivity and acceptance of Kaidan, for example. **


	8. Ch6: Tali II

**Note: It appears so far in the story I've gotten Hendel Mitra's name wrong as 'Mitra Hendel'. Oops. This chapter now goes with the correct version. Hendel Mitra, Kahlee Sanders, Jiro Toshiwa, Gillian and Paul Grayson and Kai Leng are characters from the ME novels (and in part also ME 3, yes, I know, but that's irrelevant). The chapter might make slightly more sense if you've read **_**Ascension**_**, but it should hardly be a requisite. **

**000000**

For a station partially under occupation by protestors, Tali thought Grissom Station seemed very calm. The biotics who had holed themselves up in the Ascension Project to protest BAaT and the Alliance hush-up of it seemed strangely relaxed. The graffiti were still on the walls, of course, and the entrances to other parts of the stations and the docking bays were well guarded, but there was no real fervour anymore, no political chanting, no slogans and no sense that the Alliance could strike anytime soon now. After several weeks of occupation, things had quietened down, and the Alliance's professed aim of de-escalation had helped in that, too.

_Of course, who knows whether the Alliance will keep to that aim now that Terra Nova has upped the ante. _Humanity's largest colony had decided to go on a full on confrontation with the Alliance. Declaring non-compliance, they now saw themselves not bound by any laws or orders from the Alliance government anymore. In fact, they even had already begun expropriating corporate property, and had begun trials on their own against high ranking corporate executives, in defiance of Alliance law. Moreover, they had even begun to try two Alliance officials accused of being connected with the BAaT project. Terra Nova had thrown the gauntlet, or as the quarians phrased it, had raised the red banner of conflict. Now it remained to be seen whether the Alliance would pick it up and raise a red banner of their own.

_It's funny how I've become more interested in human than quarian politics. _Tali knew why, of course; it was due to Shepard. Nonetheless, she could appreciate the irony. She had never been interested in her own species' politics. Not despite, but particularly _because_ her father was an admiral: As far as she had always been concerned, there was no need for internal divisions and arguments. The Board would always take care of matters, in the end. And even now that she was beginning to doubt this view under the lasting influence of Shepard, she still remained rather politically apathetic and disinterested. After all, she could hardly go against her own father.

And truth be told, human politics _in general_ did not greatly interest Tali, either. What she was concerned with was the struggle for biotics' rights and for justice for the BAaT survivors. Shepard's struggle. She would continue that on his behalf.

After returning from the pilgrimage, after Shepard's death, life on the Fleet had seemed a boring drag to Tali. Not really something bad or painful. However, suddenly everyday Fleet life seemed dull and monotone to Tali. She did her duty of course, she could not even think of any other way, but she did it without enthusiasm. Her father had picked her ship for her, and so she had no real stake in it. It was not _truly_ _her _ship. Over time she had come to accept this. She knew why her father and Han'Gerrel wanted her on the _Neema_. Still, she felt detached from the ship, its crew, and even its daily struggles. It was funny, but she had felt much more at home on that human ship, the _Normandy_.

And this was why she was devoted to this mission she was currently on. She had meant what she had told Tisiphone: Shepard's struggle was her struggle. _This _was actually something she could identify with. She still mourned the Spectre, and she suspected she would for a long time. However, one could not undo death. She knew she had to accept it. So she would do the next best thing: Fighting for what Shepard believed to be right. It was some sort of consolidation at least.

This was also why she enjoyed the unrest in the Alliance on some level. That actually was a very uncomfortable feeling for her. It seemed very unnatural to her that she would enjoy disorder, and on some level she felt she had no right to enjoy another species' troubles. However, she could not deny that watching the ever more tense news from the Alliance somehow just felt _right_. It was almost a guilty pleasure. _Let this be a monument to Jon. Let the Alliance higher up curse his name for decades to come. That's the sort of remembrance he'd have appreciated the most. _She would contribute to that monument as much as she could.

For now though, she had to think of some way to get away from her latest contribution to it. After infiltrating the networks of Hoshichiri Heavy Industries, and blowing up some of their servers as part of a group assembled by the biotic radical Tisiphone they all were stranded on the occupied Ascension Project. While Tisiphone was going down a meagre list of contacts she could potentially use, so far without success, Tali was looking for technical solutions. However, with nearly nothing at hand, so far she had been unsucessful, too.

Suddenly, she noticed something at her side. She swung her head around and saw a young human woman standing there. _No, not a woman;_ _a girl. _She was black haired and stood absolutely still, fixating Tali with her eyes. It was almost eerie. Tali had come to expect a wide range and many details of facial expressions from humans, yet this girl seemed to have none. She simply stood there. Apparently Tali had not even noticed her approach, and that was somewhat unsettling, too.

"Uh... hello," Tali began. "You surprised me."

"Sorry," the girl simply answered in a monotone voice. Tali paused for her to continue, but that was all she said

"It's all right," Tali continued after a while. "Who are you?"

"I'm Gillian," the girl replied. "I live here."

_She__'__s __o__ne __of __the __biotic __students__, _Tali had left. A majority had already been called home after Shepard's revelations of just why biotics could not trust the Alliance, and the rest had dispersed in the weeks after. After all, there was no real use to them being on the station with the Ascension Project locked down by the occupation. Some, however, had more or less nowhere to go and hence stayed. The staff on strike at least still provided them housing and a normal non-biotic school education. _Something__'__s __not __quite __right __with __this __girl__, __though__. _

"I'm Tali," the quarian introduced herself.

Gillian nodded empatheticly to that, as if Tali had told her an important secret. After a while she said: "You have strange clothes."

_Clothes__? __Oh__. _"That's my envirosuit," Tali explained. "I'm a quarian. Quarians have to wear it most of the time, or we'll get sick."

"That's strange," Gillian commented. "But it must be nice."

"Nice?" Tali asked surprised.

"The... suit," Gillian said. Apparently she had not taken Tali's outburst of surprise well. She looked somewhat uncomfortable. _She __seems __to __have __some __mental __disorder__. __Something __to __do __with __her __biotic __capabilities__? _In any case she persisted. "Protects you from..." She paused midsentence. "It protects you."

"It does," Tali confirmed, "But I think most of my people wished that was not necessary. I certainly do."

However, Gillian apparently did not even consider her answer: "It's like a place you can hide in... that you can carry around." The idea seemed exciting to her.

Tali found the whole conversation very strange, however she remained friendly. If the girl really had some sort of disorder, it was not truly her fault, and besides, she was one of the very people her mission to Elysium had been all about in the end. A biotically gifted human, and a child at that. Even if it appeared that she made light of the quarians' situation, in a way, Tali could not truly be angry with her. "Not a very good place to hide," she said humorously. "You still found me, after all."

"Not like that!" Gillian burst out. She seemed a bit frustrated, most likely with what to say.

Before Tali could answer, a woman and a man came rushing toward the girl in front of her. The woman was a blonde with a worried look on her, while the man was black haired and a bit on the smaller side. He wore an amused smile on his face.

"There you are, Gillian!" the woman exclaimed. "I've been looking for you! Hendel and I were worried "

"I told you she'd be fine," the man said with a slight chuckle. "She just wanted to see our visitors."

The woman looked at Tali with an unsure smile. It looked somewhat forced. The man's conclusion made sense, though. Tali was probably the only non-human on the entire space station, certainly the only one in the occupied parts. And her species had become a very rare one in general, one most people did not get to see face to face (so to speak) in their entire life. She had noticed the stares on her during her stay on the station so far, and that was probably the reason. It was probably also the reason Gillian approached her. _Then again, she seemed more interested in my envirosuit for some reason... _

"I'm sorry if she bothered you..." the woman began.

"Oh, not at all," Tali answered. "It was a nice diversion, actually."

"Well then, good to hear," the woman said. "I'm Kahlee Sanders by the way."

In human fashion, she offered her right hand, and Tali took it. Strangely enough, that name was not unknown to her. "Kahlee Sanders? Ah, excuse me for prying, but _th__e_ Kahlee Sanders?"

Sanders sighed. "Whatever it is you know me from, I suppose I am."

"Your reputation precedes you, darling," the man said with a grin and then looked to Tali. "I'm Jiro Toshiwa, working as the Project's pharmacist... or I was, at least, when the Ascension Project was still running." He, too, shook Tali's hand and then looked to Sanders again. "Well, I guess I better get Gillian here back to her quarters. I know you'll just worry to death otherwise."

He gave Sanders a kiss on the cheek, and then tried to guide Gillian away. Gillian however, resisted slightly, turned back to Tali and offered her hand. Tali shook it. Only then did Gillian walk away. Toshiwa looked puzzled as he went with her, and Sanders looked outright surprised.

"She never does that," the woman said after Gillian had left.

"Does what?" Tali asked.

"Takes somebody's hand," Sanders explained. "She usually avoids absolutely all forms of physical contact, if possible."

"Oh," Tali made. "So that's why she was interested in my envirosuit."

"She was?" Sanders asked, still surprised. "I guess that makes sense, but - she talked to you?" When Tali nodded, she continued: "That's weird. She never talks to strangers. There is... there's something wrong with her brain chemistry. A form of autism, we suspect, though it's atypical in some respects."

"I see," Tali answered. And after a pause: "And yet she got a biotic implant?"

"The Ascension Project offers... or, well, offered the best medical observation and treatment facilities for biotics the Alliance has," Sanders answered. "In fact, Gillian is one of the strongest biotics we've ever encountered. Maybe the strongest, period.**[1]** Leaving her alone with her biotic powers would be much more dangerous to her and to others around her."

"Human biotics, like all biotics except the asari, don't actually have much in the way of biotic powers without amplifiers, as you well know," Tali argued calmly. "No matter how strong she is, if you had not given her an implant with amplifiers, her eezo nodules would not have any major effect. Maybe she'd be able to raise a pen at best. Given human history with faulty implants, inserting a biotic implant into the brain of a girl with an apparently not well understood neural disorder seems a bit reckless to me.**[2]**"

It was the argument Shepard would have used. _Though no doubt he would have been more forceful. _Still, the always present self-analytical part of Tali was amazed once again how involved she had become in human issues. By now she probably knew more about the history of human biotics than she did about current quarian issues, like the growing resource gap between some ships. In a way, reading up on it and keeping herself updated on issues Shepard had cared about had been comforting for her. It was a way of honouring his memory.

"The L2s are fifteen years ago!" Sanders exclaimed. "Nowadays we're working on VI-assisted L4 implants! Or well, we were, before the crisis hit. That's why I'm here."

_Ask __Tisiphone__. __Ask __her __how __much t__he __L__2__s __are in the past__. _However, Tali had not come here to argue. Besides, after all, she was just a guest. It was a bit odd, though: Apparently Kahlee was _still_, after all the revelations, a supporter of human biotic efforts. And yet she was here, on this part of a space station occupied by protesters condemning human biotic policy.

"Makes sense," Tali said. "I already wondered how such a well known programmer like you ended up here."

"Well known, me?" Sanders asked. "Infamous, rather. Maybe."

"Maybe a bit," Tali conceded. "Still, I know many quarians who would give up quite a large share of their rations to be able to talk with you. About AI or VI programming, program architecture, stuff like that."

"So, what? Are you telling me I'm some sorta celebrity over at the Migrant Fleet?" Sanders asked amused. "Damn, I should see if I could sell an autobiography there or something."

Tali chuckled. What Kahlee Sanders was well known for was her involvement in the Sidon Incident, an illegal experiment of the Systems Alliance to create a workable AI. The project had ended rather horribly, but by all accounts, truncated as they had been due to Citadel data security, the human approaches to AI programming and system structures had been novel and innovative, and quite sound and efficient, too. And a large part of that, as the media channels had found out, had been Sanders' work.

The quarians had been burnt badly with their own work on the subject. Even though the geth had not been designed as AIs, due to the neural network they had developed into that, and the result had been the de facto extermination of the quarian race. Or at least, 99% was nearly as good as full extermination. Only the genocide against the rachni overshadowed the one the geth had committed. Nonetheless, the remaining quarians were still probably, collectively speaking, the best VI programmers in the galaxy. In fact, that was probably their only remaining export market besides labour. Plus, the dream of reconquering the geth and using them to make the quarians a power again had never completely died. So as a result, of course an outstanding AI/VI programmer with completely new and sound ideas like Sanders would raise interest on the fleet.

"I'd read it," Tali confessed. "At least if it included some hints to what programs you've designed." She became more excited. "The rumours about your decentralized heuristic structures are amazing! Is it true they can really run parallel yet coordinated self-referential processes?"

Even with new areas of interest, Tali's fascination with the challenges of programming and engineering of course had never left her. The prospect of talking about those matters with somebody who according to rumours was an outstanding expert on them excited her.

Sanders smiled wistfully. "Ah, that's in the past. The VIs for the L4 implants won't need that. And all that stuff is still under strict classification anyway. No, I'm just a programmer for biotic implants at the moment. At least, technically. Currently I can't even work on that."

Tali had to admit she was disappointed in the answer. After a pause she asked: "Why are you still here then?"

"As Jiro said: My fame and infamy precede me," Sanders explained. "There's the involvement in the Sidon Incident and also the fact that I'm the daughter of the man this station is named for. If I leave it, I'd just run into too much media attention. Again."

Tali had not known the latter. She could definitely sympathize. If she could, she would escape being singled out just due to who her father was as well. "But you don't agree with the protesters here?"

"I understand the mistrust," Sanders conceded. "And if I had a biotic child, I'd be wary, too, after Shepard's revelations. But I'm part of the Ascension Project. I can look at it from the other angle. I know there's nothing sinister about the Project, I know the Alliance doesn't do the same mistakes anymore. So this all it's just... setting us back."

"_Mistakes?"_ Tali whirled around. She saw Tisiphone standing some metres away, leaned against a corridor wall. Her arms were crossed in front of her, and her face showed an intense anger. Tali did not know how long she had already been standing there and listening, but it seemed like a supreme case of bad timing. "So what has been done to us, hey, that was just mistakes, no harm meant? After all, what's some ruined lives against the _glory of humanity_, yes? Call it what it was. An atrocity **[3]**. And had it not been for Shepard, the Alliance would still continue its crimes against us. By hushing it all up, by letting us all live with the pain. That's not something that just happened in the past."

_Oh __keelah__. _This could not possibly end well.

Sanders looked surprised and hesitated, but then answered firmly: "In any case, the Ascension Project had nothing to do with it. We aim to..."

"Oh like hell," Tisiphone interrupted her. "This 'project' was made possible by what's been done to us. By our suffering. By the continuation of our pain as everything got hushed up. The Alliance _sacrificed _us to make something like this here possible." She scoffed. "And then you go on to _conscript_ mentally challenged children into it. Not because you care about them. But because you want to harness their power and to hell what this might do to their ill understood brains!"

"And you're so much better?" Sanders shot back. "What about all the security guards you killed down there?"

"Last I checked they volunteered for the job," Tisiphone answered aggressively. "I wasn't given the choice, and neither were any of the kids _the __Alliance_ killed."

"That was Conatix," Sanders pointed out.

"And the Alliance looked on and let them. Conatix was tasked by the Alliance. On an Alliance space station. Under Alliance authority. With the Alliance hushing everything up," Tisiphone countered. "And then Conatix got split up, and all its executives got away, comfortably leading the successor companies. While the Alliance continued to hush up everything for 15 years, multiplying its crimes. So tell me, just why should I assume your program of Hamelin Pipers is any better? I hope it stays collapsed."

Tali looked around unsurely, afraid this would take a bad end. She had seen Tisiphone in battle and respected her skills. The BAaT survivor was a good tactician, an outstanding markswoman and an at least competent biotic. However, she was also very, very volatile, even more so than Shepard had been. And any conflict with her could escalate very quickly: Her dreams of vengeance were literally everything that had kept her alive for fifteen years. Most likely, she would have no problems propelling any argument into physical violence.

"So you'd rather have no human biotic progress at all?" Sanders asked.

"A 'progress' originally based on _my __torture_? What do you _think_?" Tisiphone confirmed. "To hell with biotic powers and implants and training. They way they got it, humanity doesn't _deserve_ biotic support and services."

That stumped Sanders, and Tisiphone went on: "Bah. And I originally came to report some good news. Have you heard what has happened down there on the planet?" Both Sanders and Tali shook their heads. Tisiphone flashed a predator's grin. "The Colony of Elysium has followed Terra Nova's lead. The extranet news channels are just airing the Elysian Declaration of Non-Compliance. That's two major colonies now who won't follow the Alliance government for the moment."

"Oh good god!" Sanders whispered.

"I hope the Alliance is going to hell!" Tisiphone hissed. "Bah, that's not going to happen, but a woman can dream."

…...

_Say __what __you __want __about __the __Alliance __and __their __programs__, __but __they __know __how __to __build __space __stations__._

As Tali's, Tisiphone's and their group's unfortunate involuntary stay on the Ascension Project became longer and longer, the quarian had began to make herself useful. With the facilities having been occupied for weeks there had been very little maintenance on them at all, and sturdy and efficient as human construction could be, it still began to show. So Tali had begun to check up on things and repair any defects she could find. It seemed only fair to her: The occupying biotics managed to get supplies for her and Tisiphone's group, including dextro-amino food from ancestors know where. Tali would have felt guilty if she could not have offered something in return.

Currently, she was patching up a disruption in the power distribution. It was nothing serious, but left unchecked it could lead to black outs. Fortunately, it was also something that was relatively easy and cheap to fix. It was still a lot of work, but Tali was used to that. On the antiquated quarian ships, just about every repair work was labour intensive.

She laid down the power tool she had used and looked up a model of the now repaired device on her omni-tool. "That should do it," she said.

The girl next to her did not respond: Gillian. The biotic student had begun to follow Tali around pretty regularly. Apparently, she still was fascinated with the quarian. Sometimes, she would respond to what Tali said, but other times she would just stand there and watch her.

Tali did not mind. Being watched working was normal for a quarian, given that their ships were not only overaged but also overcrowded, and Gillian never made a nuisance out of herself. What was more, Tali felt a certain pity for her. In a way, the girl was stranded on the station just the same way she was. Her biotic training program had collapsed, but she had apparently nowhere else to go. Suddenly, her entire world had been turned upside down, and her mental condition made it very difficult for her to cope.

So if she could find some comfort in watching Tali, that was all right with the quarian. Kahlee Sanders had already told her that the girl seemed much more stable in recent days, so it appeared there was a positive effect.

Suddenly, she heard loud arguing and commotion not far away. She approached it, with Gillian in her tow. She spotted Hendel Mitra, Kahlee Sanders, Jiro Toshiwa and Tisiphone. All four suddenly stopped arguing when they saw her - or rather when they saw Gillian.

"Ah..." Sanders said awkwardly.

Toshiwa grinned slightly amused by the whole affair. "No worry, I'll take her to her room. Gillian, could you please come with me?"

The biotic girl nodded and went. When the two had left, Tali asked: "So what was that about?"

Hesitating, Sanders began: "Her father..."

Mitra interrupted her angrily: "Her so called father! Paul Grayson. He's coming! He'll dock in some minutes! He wants to take her with him!"

"So she has a family to go to?" Tali asked surprised. "I assumed... since she still was here... that she had nowhere to go."

"That's the case," Mitra insisted. "Her father is totally unfit to care for her! She needs special care he just can't provide..."

"And you can?" Tisiphone asked. She, too, seemed angry, but then - she _was_ Tisiphone. It was nearly redundant to say so at this point. "At least this 'Good little biotic drones' program allows contact between the kids and the parents. You know how it was on Brain Camp. The lies to our parents. How they tore our families apart. Deliberately, so they could do with us whatever they wanted! A family must have first rights to their children, under all circumstances!"

"Oh, believe me, I know all about that, Jeanne," Mitra said very darkly, almost growling.

He sounded so angry that Tali already feared escalation, especially as Tisiphone interrupted him: "Jeanne is dead. The Alliance killed her."

Mitra snorted angrily. "Whatever you say. But you don't know that guy. He's a drug addict! He's taking Red Sand and he's not getting away from it! Even when he visits his daughter... half the time he's terribly disorientated. Those visits have always stressed Gillian out a lot. He's _not_ a stabilizing factor in her life, and that's already when he's away most of the time! He absolutely has no ability to care for her!"

"Bah, there should be no children here in the first place!" Tisiphone argued. "What the hell is it with that attitude? That if a child has biotic potential, they are _of course_ sent here, it's just expected. Even if they can't really decide for themselves yet, even if they maybe want to be something else in life other than biotics. Good thing _that_ has broken down now."

"It's always been a balancing act," Sanders now chimed in, "and part of that balancing act is that of course the parents retain first rights to their children. Now, Grayson _is_ the father. He's... he's not a stable person, but surely he can move with his daughter if he so wants?"

"You want to argue legalities?" Mitra asked. "On a space station occupied by protesters, orbiting a colony which doesn't recognize the current government anymore?"

"And that's why I've been against the whole occupation from the beginning," Sanders argued. "It erodes the rule of law. And you'd have it erode even further! Look, think about it pragmatically: Do you want to hand a PR victory to the other side? And you know how the media would spin it: 'Unstable biotic terrorists hold child against the wishes of her and her father!' Something like that."

"Goddamnit!" Mitra cursed. "Argh! Let's just take a look at that guy. He'll be in the docking bay soon."

The four people got going. Tali had remained respectfully silent during the whole conversation, because despite everything she still felt like an outside in the affairs of those people. She was of two minds about the issue. On the one hand, quarians placed an immense weight on families. So of course she would agree that Gillian's father would have first rights.**[4]** On the other hand, the high mortality rates aboard the Migrant Fleet meant there always was a sizeable number of orphans. In those cases, either the wider clan or the ship community took care of them as best they could. After all, clan and in a way ship crew were both family. They would care for and even love the child. No quarian child had to grow up without guidance and care, the way - _the way Jon had been forced to, actually. _Thus, the argument that Gillian should stay with those people who cared for her the most also made sense to her. If her father truly was incapable of actually raising her, then Gillian staying with Mitra, Sanders etc. would in fact be no different than how it would be done on quarian ships.

About twenty minutes after the group had arrived at the docking bay, Paul Grayson's ship arrived. As Sanders told her, it was indeed his private ship, registered on his name, so Red Sand addiction or not, apparently the man was not doing too badly for himself. It was a big ship, too, requiring a larger docking bay than the shuttle Tali and Tisiphone had captured on Elysium did.

After the docking manoeuvre had been completed, Grayson could leave his ship and approach Sanders, Mitra, Tisiphone and Tali. Despite all of Mitra's claims, he seemed focused and even sharp at first glance, with a well fitting suit and shortly trimmed black hair. He was accompanied by another man, who wore his long black hair in a pony tail. The stranger seemed to share a genetic ancestry with Jiro Toshiwa, and like him, he seemed to be constantly smiling. Grayson shook Sander's hand, but Mitra refused the greeting. Tisiphone and Tali remained in the background. The man next to Grayson seemed to keep the two constantly under watch.

"I'm sorry my visit and my decision have come so short term," Grayson begun, "but with the way things are heating up here... I don't feel it's secure anymore for Gillian. The Elysian secession puts the whole region in peril."

"It's no secession," Mitra argued. "Besides, you felt it was safe enough for her to stay on a space station occupied by radical protesters."

"Radical protesters who as a point of ideology would never harm biotic children," the man besides Grayson pointed out.

"Ah, yes, this is Kai Leng, my assistant," Grayson introduced the man, "and he's right. The Alliance, either, wouldn't... ah, they wouldn't attack this. Not over just such an occupation. But Elysium's... their declaration of 'non-compliance'? That's possible. No, I'm sorry, but I must insist on getting my daughter."

Tali noticed how Grayson had some trouble with his speech. And his assistant was curiously close to him. _As __if __to __hold __him __up __if __necessary__._ Maybe the man was not in as good a shape as she had first assumed.

"I, ah, I'll get her," Sanders said, quickly hurrying away.

The rest of the group waited. Mitra and Grayson were eying each other with suspicion and contempt, while Leng kept Tisiphone and Tali under watch. The quarian especially seemed to have caught his attention. _He__'__s __hiding __it __well__, __but __he __dislikes __me__. __Probably __for __my __race__. _Tali had gathered enough unpleasant experiences with that to be able to tell. There was more to it, though. Leng also seemed _surprised_ by her presence, and maybe by Tisiphone's presence, too. _As __if __he __had __expected __something __firmly __set __in __place__..._

"So, how do you want to hide your addiction from your daughter then?" Mitra asked venomously after some time.

"I don't think my... what I do in private... that this is any of your business," Grayson replied aggressively, "And I resent the accusation!"

"Mr Grayson is a wealthy man," Leng chimed in. Despite the seriousness of the situation and his words he was smiling, as if this was all was just a big joke to him. "You can be assured that Gillian will always be provided and cared for. And in the end the Ascension Project cannot do more than that, either. You're all just professionals. Even if you're dedicated professionals and care about the children here, she's still doesn't have a father here."

Tisiphone grunted agreement.

Suddenly, a female scream echoed through the corridors. _That__'__s __Sanders__!_

And then everybody sprung into action.

**000000**

**[1] **Don't take this as a canonical (for the purpose of the fic) statement. Jack is probably stronger.

**[2] **You know, I never thought much about it, but writing this chapter - Gillian's form of autism does in fact seem little understood in _Ascension_, and yet they do implant her? So come to think of it, it's a further proof how rotten the whole system in-universe is.

**[3] **Tisiphone is speaking on impulse there, but she is actually not exaggerating. IRL, I'm pretty sure BAaT would fall under the definition of a 'crime against humanity' under the Rome Statute. See Section 7, especially points f, i and k.

**[4] **Of course Paul is not Gillian's biological, but adoptive father, but Tali doesn't know that.

**000000**

**Yes****, a ****cliffhanger****. ****The ****chapter ****simply ****got ****too ****damn ****big****, ****so ****I ****decided ****to ****split ****it****. ****The ****action ****parts ****will ****be ****in ****the ****next ****chapter****, ****heh****. ****And ****yes****, ****this ****is ****basically ****a ****truncated ****version ****of **_**Ascension **_**with ****Tali ****and ****Tisiphone ****as ****main ****characters****. **

**I ****have ****to ****say****, ****ME**** 3 ****convinced ****me ****that ****on ****the ****whole ****Sanders ****is ****not ****a ****good ****person****. ****I ****said ****I****'****d ****disregard ****ME**** 3 ****canon ****and ****storyline****, ****but ****the ****Grissom ****Academy ****parts ****bother ****me ****enough**** that ****I ****might ****take ****them ****into ****account****... ****which ****I ****guess****, ****should ****surprise ****few ****here****, ****given ****my ****preoccupation ****with ****that ****topic****, ****haha****. **


	9. Ch7: Tali III

A female scream echoed through the corridors of the occupied Ascension Project. Kahlee Sanders, a specialist involved in programming VI support for the new L4 implants, had just discovered something terrible.

On the docking bay Tali heard her cry. So did Tisiphone, the biotic radical at her side, and Hendel Mitra, one of the Project's staff members on strike. And so did Paul Grayson and Kai Leng, who had just come to retrieve Paul's autistic daughter Gillian, one of the remaining students; something which Mitra was resisting firmly

Everybody sprung into action. Mitra ran towards the scream, and Tali turned to follow, but something at the edge of her vision field caught her attention. She let herself fall and heard a shot ringing above her. Luckily, the quarian skeleton was far more flexible than its human counterpart, and Tali was at top physical shape. Her pilgrimage had seen to _that__._ Gracefully, she rolled off and landed on her knees. During the fall, she had drawn her knife from its sheath at her boot, and now in one smooth motion she threw it to from where the shot had come from.

She nearly hit the mark. Kai Leng would maybe have been protected by shields, but his instincts took over and he fell back into a kneeling position to avoid the knife. This gave Tisiphone enough time to slam him with a biotic punch and raise a barrier. _What__'__s __going __on__? _Grayson was drawing a pistol, too, but Tali did not stay to watch. Tisiphone was already dragging her backwards, into a retreat. _Better __combat __instincts __than __me__, __it __seems__. _After all, what exactly happened was irrelevant. What mattered was that they were in a combat situation.

What they found when they ran back was nearly as shocking: Sanders and Mitra were wrestling with Toshiwa, trying to get him under control. Gillian stood next to the fight, and she looked somewhat dazed. She even seemed to have trouble just standing upright and maintaining her balance. Her eyes were somewhat glassy and even more devoid of expression than normal. When she became aware of Tali arriving, she stumbled towards her. Tali had to run up to her and catch the child to prevent her from falling down.

Meanwhile, Mitra managed to land a well placed punch right into Toshiwa's face. The pharmacist remained conscious, but was so dazed that he stopped all resistance. Sanders bolted up from the fight and shouted: "He... he drugged Gillian. Injected her with something. And whatever it was he took it from a large, hidden reserve. This can't be the first time!"

"Her biotic powers..." Toshiwa said in a dazed, confused voice before shutting up again, apparently remembering he was not among friends anymore.

Tali looked at the child that still clung to one of her arms; something that was, as she knew, very rare for Gillian. A helpless child mistreated for her biotic powers. Like so many had been before her. _No __way __you__'__re __getting __her__, __Grayson__. _She began to type on her omni-tool.

Just as Grayson and Leng came running along, an air seal on the corridor was closing in front of them. Tali had hacked herself into the station's systems to buy them some time. However, the triumph was short lived. Shortly before closing entirely, the door seemed to open again. Somebody else had access. _Ancestors __damn __it__!_

"They're coming through, run!" Tali ordered the group. After all none of them were armed, while Grayson and Leng were.

The group did just that. Tali and Sanders helped Gillian along, while Mitra and Tisiphone dragged Toshiwa with them. Gillian struggled a bit against Sander's touch, but was too weak and confused to put up any real resistance.

"The pharmacy!" Sanders shouted. "Of course!" She pointed to a room door. "Quick, in there!"

Tali had no idea what Sanders was planning, but she had sounded very secure about it, and that was enough for the quarian. The group entered a middle sized room, stacked full of electronics and packages of medicine.

"This room has its own lock system," Sanders explained hastily while she typed on her omni-tool. "Some of the medicines here could be a bit dangerous if released into the general air system. Now, hopefully this should keep them out."

Watching through a window to the corridor in front of the room, Tali could indeed see how Grayson and Leng became increasingly more agitated the longer they stood in front of the door. Leng especially seemed to have lost all his suave, and finally angrily raised his pistol and fired at the window - which did not crack. Apparently, the group was indeed safe in the room.

Which meant Tali could take care of other things. She turned around, focused on Toshiwa and began to hack his omni-tool.

This proved to be surprisingly difficult. As she began to make her way through its file orders and processes, she noticed how some were protected by high-end security systems the likes of which she had never seen before. _No__, __wait__, __that__'__s __not __entirely __correct__... __keelah__! __I __need __a __data __dump __now__!_ As some files were deleting themselves in front of her, she dumped as many as she could onto her own omni-tool. She trusted its quarantine programs to keep any danger contained; after all, she had written them herself.

_The __same __data __self__-__destruction __routine __I __encountered __on __Nepheron__. __On __the __Cerberus __facility__!_ **[1] **"You son of a clanless bosh'tet," she muttered. Speaking up she told the others: "It seems we have a powerful enemy."

"I know," Tisiphone answered. Tali turned around to face her. The biotic held up a packet of medicine. "New Dawn Pharmaceutics, but with no registration numbers for the medicine or anything. Unregistered medicine. And you know what's gone through the news recently. New Dawn is a Cerberus front company."

Not only had Tali heard, in fact this had been among the data she had unearthed on Nepheron. Heavily encrypted data, but Shepard had simply sent it to all intelligence services in the galaxy, so now, bit by bit, the unencrypted juicy news about Cerberus was hitting the limelight. The Alliance, of course, had not been amused how openly Shepard had washed their laundry, but at that point Shepard had already begun to absolutely not care.

"Cerberus," Tali said. "This all is a Cerberus operation." Cerberus most likely had been involved in the cases of deliberate eezo contamination uncovered by Shepard, so it made sense they would go to even further immoral lengths in the name of 'biotics research'.

"Oh god," Kahlee whispered. "Gillian, she... she always was more passive after medical visits by Toshiwa; quieter, more withdrawn, less stable. I thought it was only fear of doctors, but..."

She sounded hurt to the bone. Tali knew the VI specialist and Toshiwa had been a couple, but it appeared plain now that Sanders had known nothing of what the man had been doing. She had been betrayed, too.

"You think he caused her condition?" Mitra asked. He seemed to be boiling.

"Caused or worsened it," Tisiphone cut in aggressively.

In a smooth movement, Mitra turned around to Toshiwa, and hit him square into the face with his fist. The pharmacist stumbled back and was caught by Tisiphone, who grabbed his collar and pushed him hard against a wall.

"_Is __this __true__?"_ she asked. Her voice thundered and she loomed over Toshiwa like an impeccable predator. Her face was hard as stone, with not a trace of mercy to be found. Sparks came from her blue glowing right hand. She now looked every bit the mythical demon of vengeance she had named herself for.

It made Tali uncomfortable. Not that Toshiwa would not deserve it, but Gillian was also in the room, watching. The quarian put her hands on the girl's shoulders, and tried to shield her from the violence as best as she could.

"Her biotic potential..." Toshiwa stammered. "Cerberus thought... we have to think of the future of humanity! Kahlee, you know her powers! She's the strongest biotic we've ever seen here! If we could harness that... there are dangers out there! You, quarian, you of all people should know that, you've been on Shepard's mission! If our soldiers all had such power against those threats... I mean... what's one girl compared to the safety of all of humanity?"

"Fuck humanity," Tisiphone responded, "Only humans matter."

She whirled around with Toshiwa still in her hold and slammed him into a nearby desk with a large biotic push. The desk was hurled back and even managed to make a dent into the wall behind it. Several cracking noises could be heard. When Toshiwa came to a halt, he could not move again. He moaned. A puddle of blood began to form beneath him.

A shocked shriek came from Sanders. Tali went down on one knee and pressed Gillian to her as tight as she could, something the girl simply let happen.

Shouts could be heard from outside the room. Tali paid no attention to them and kept focusing on Gillian. When she looked up again, the room's doors were open, and members of Tisiphone's group were coming in. Alerted by Tisiphone before she had begun working on Toshiwa, they had chased away Grayson and Leng, and even more importantly, they had brought everybody's weapons along.

"I'm very glad to see you, Yong," Tisiphone said.

"Ah, it's not over yet," the man answered. "There are armed people inside that ship, and a second one is coming up towards the station. No insignia, no registration, no communication with us. They're trying to storm this place and already have people inside!"

"They really want Gillian," Tisiphone, who was still towering over the nearly motionless Toshiwa, commented

"They're not getting her," Tali spat out aggressively. _Nobody __does__, __and __especially __not __Cerberus__!_ Of all people Cerberus. The organization that had been Shepard's nemesis - and thus it would also be hers.

"This station cannot withstand a coordinated attack," Mitra judged. "if that second ship docks..."

"That means we need to get away before they do," Tisiphone concluded. She sounded eerily calm and analytical for somebody who had just broken several bones at once in a man. "They're after us, not the protesters. We endanger the protesters."

"If we use that lousy shuttle we came with..." Tali began.

"They'll shoot us down, yeah," Tisiphone agreed. "So we take their ship." Everybody in her group nodded. They all seemed to trust her; if she said they would take that ship, then they would take it. She looked down on Toshiwa lying in front of her. He whimpered silently in pain. "But before I need to take care of that filth in human form. So, where's the nearest airlock?"

"No!" Sanders shouted. "You can't do that!"

"I can, and I will," Tisiphone answered. She called up a holographic map of the station on her omni-tool.

"No... no..." Toshiwa whimpered.

Sanders tried to reach and attack Tisiphone, but she was blocked by several of the biotics in the room. Tisiphone ended her omni-tool programm. She and one of her companions took Toshiwa and dragged him behind them, still alive, leaving behind a trail of blood.

When they came back, without him, her eyes were nearly as empty as Gillian's. Still, she walked upright and showed no other sign that this business had bothered her. "All right then. Let's destroy the rest of them. And then get the hell out of here."

She looked everybody in the face. When her eyes met Sanders, the VI specialist scoffed. "You must be crazy if you think I'm coming with you, murderer!"

"Fine, stay here," Tisiphone said, "I'm sure Cerberus will be very gentle with you."

"Please, Kahlee," Mitra added. "You'll endanger everybody else here if you stay. And think about Gillian! Somebody needs to stay with her"

Sanders hesitated. "Fine," she conceded, finally. "I'll do that. For her sake. I'll watch over her." She glared at Tisiphone. "But don't get too comfortable, murderer. I'll watch my back, too, and I'll watch _you_."

Tali would have assumed the BAaT survivor to react in an angry fashion. Instead, she did not speak, and even nodded. Then she turned around, while the others followed her. They were going into battle.

Shortly before they reached the docking bay, she spoke up again: "You know who we're up against. Cerberus, who poisoned entire colonies so more biotic children could be born. Biotic children to be abused for their powers. Cerberus, who had no problems with hundreds of foetuses dying in the process and even more being born malformed into a life of pain. They are the sort of people who had us tortured! The sort of people who continue to mistreat us biotics! And you know what these specific people did. That they exploited a poor, innocent girl for her powers. They they ruined her entire life!" She paused. "So to us, that scum shall no longer be considered people or human! We'll go in there, and we'll _destroy_ it. The order is: For Gillian, and no mercy! No quarter is given, none is expected!**[2]** Kill them all! Their fate is sealed!"

A roar answered her. Tali did not take part in it. To her, there was no need for such extreme retribution. However, she knew that they needed to eradicate the Cerberus presence on the station, and that they needed their ship. That was the only way to get Gillian to safety. Thus, she would play along.

The biotics stormed into the docking bay. As Tisiphone had expected, the Cerberus troops had already positioned themselves there, making use of its corners and pieces of equipment standing around as covered positions. Soon, crossfire raged all across the vast room. Impact holes began to adorn the walls, and several pieces of equipment were destroyed. There was no real tactical element to the combat. Everybody sought an enemy and then battled it out.

The Cerberus troops were tenacious in their defence. They cleverly used their cover, they minimized their movement, and they were very efficient in helping each other. The biotics, on the other hand, were _ferocious__._ They threw themselves into battle, clad in dark energy, without regard for life and limb. Tisiphone, especially, was a bolt of black lightning, a roaring storm of revenge that seemed to be everywhere at once. Without regards for her surroundings she growled and screamed, firing and releasing biotic attacks.

It was impossible to tell who had the upper hand. The biotics' wild, mighty push seemed to dazzle resistance for a bit, and there clearly was fear in the eyes of some of the Cerberus troopers. What they saw probably looked like a powerful juggernaut adorned with mystical powers to them. However, their line held, and their discipline worked in their favour. While the biotics fought with reckless abandon, that meant the Cerberus troops could stay in their cover and target one after the other. And while Tisiphone's No Quarter order helped to sow fear, it also hindered the biotics: Tali saw how they gunned down fleeing Cerberus troopers, and wasted time on humiliating and killing disarmed enemies. They remained true to their word: No mercy was shown, no surrender accepted.

Among this madness, Tali tried to remain calm, to fight more rationally. It was difficult keeping an overview of this battle, but with the experiences gained on her missions with Shepard it was possible. She would stay in the background, hack into Cerberus omni-tools, sabotage Cerberus weapons or appear wherever reinforcements seemed needed. And as the battle raged on, she noticed something. _Where__'__s __Grayson__? __Where__'__s __Leng__? _Both seemed to be absent. _They __must __be __inside __the __ship__. _That was bad. They could plan and prepare ancestors know what in there. She had to do something about that. _I __wonder__... _Her omni-tool's processing power was meagre compared to the electronic might of an entire space station or even just a ship, but she had to try. _Let__'__s __see __if __I__can __flush __them __out__._

She sought cover behind a piece of electronic equipment. Bullets flew past her, but she willed herself to pay no heed. Instead, she knelt down, laid her shotgun on her knee and focused on her omni-tool. One by one, she slipped sleeper programs into the various ship systems. She enslaved program routes, terminated certain security processes, routed all command functions to her tool. And then she struck. All over the ship, the illumination went out, doors opened and closed erratically, and the atmospheric mix in the ventilation system changed. She could not see it directly, but her omni-tool reported her successes.

_They __have __to __leave __now__, __if __they __don__'__t __want __to __asphyxiate__. _Tali kept the ship under close scrutiny. She wanted to see where Grayson and Leng would exit. They were dangerous, and as far as she was concerned best be eliminated. Not due to a desire of vengeance, as Tisiphone had, but mainly to end a danger to their group and to Gillian. So she watched, hoping to catch them, and...

…her shotgun was pushed from her knee and flew away several meters. It ended up spinning on the floor, far away from her. Shocked, she looked into the direction of the push. She saw Grayson standing in a corner behind the ship, though he barely could keep himself straight. He collapsed on the floor, but she still could see a faint blue glow about him. _A __Red __Sand __addict__. __Red __Sand __gives __temporary __biotic __powers__..._

She had no time to finish the thought. Instead she went up and ran. If Grayson somehow had been able to leave the ship without her noticing, then so had Leng. And running into the direction of her gun would be suicide; Tali had no doubt Leng was watching it very closely. She had barely walked three steps when a hail of bullets hit her so far mostly untested shields. She whirled around, and, as expected, faced Leng. The human had come surprisingly close, standing only some few meters away from her, holding two pistols. But Tali had expected his presence, and released a sabotage program onto the twin pistols.

Leng, though, merely smiled. He simply threw the guns away and drew two other ones. "Quick thinking little bitch," he commented. "But not quick enough."

Tali let him talk. She had to admit he was well prepared, but it would not be enough. She had learned a thing or two from Shepard, and one lesson was to never just let your enemy blather on. _Either __shoot __them __while __they__'__re __still __talking__, __or__ else __use __the __time __to __get __an __advantage__. _By the time he had finished, she had quickly patched together the next sabotage hack. When Leng rose his next set of pistols, they jammed.

By that time, Tali's right hand had wandered to her right boot - only to find nothing there.

"You're looking for that?" Leng asked grinning. Two more pistols lay in front of him, and he held up her knife. The knife she had thrown against him. "Very well then. This will be _way _more fun anyway. I get to stab down Shepard's little whore with her own knife. Sabotage _this_."

He lunged forward. However, it was a very well guarded attack. He held back his right arm, his knife arm, and held his other hand in front of him, to ward off any counterattacks. Clearly, Leng knew how to use a knife.

With no grenades, no guns and no weapon, Tali could do little else than to back off and avoid the knife. Against a close combat weapon, shields were useless, too. Leng started several attacks, stabbed high and low, stabbed right and left. Tali had to dance away from them, holding her arms away from her body and trying best as she could to present her narrow side to Leng. She hoped to avoid his fierce charges long enough for the battle around them to die down and thus for _somebody_ to come to her help. She whirled around, jumped, ducked and jumped up again. She danced back and forth, and at one point used her arm to block his. However, Leng simply kept on attacking.

The only useful function of her omni-tool was its flashlight. Amidst the stabs aimed at her, Tali managed to set it to a narrow, high energy setting, hoping to flash and blind her enemy. Sometimes it worked and Leng's attacks were cut short by light overwhelming his eyes. But all in all it still was a very poor defence. While he kept on attacking with the knife, she only wielded a simple beam of light in defense.

Finally, one stab hit. The knife, her own knife, cut through her envirosuit at her left upper arm, leaving a long bloody wound. Searing pain shot through her body. Shortly after, she had a smaller cut on her right lower arm. Straining to ignore the pain, she stumbled some steps back. Leng paused. His grin widened as his prey stood in front of him, hesitating and bleeding.

That moment was all the time she needed. _I__'__ll __show __you __how __much __a __quick __thinking __little __bosh__'__tet __I __am__. _Willing herself to ignore the pain, she quickly typed a command sentence on her omni-tool. It was one she had hoped she would never have to use, and it was a shame she had to use it now, with all the data from Toshiwa on it. But it could not be helped. The tool began to emit a series of ever quickening beeps.

Leng lunged forwards again. And again. And again. During one of his attacks, Tali danced besides the knife, slipped the omni-tool over her wrist and let it fall to the ground. She dived and rolled away from the scene, taking care to not look back. Leng growled and was about to jump after her - when he was hit by a blinding strike of light.

It had been Tali's last resort; a 'going down with the ship' omni-tool program that would overheat the tool to become a very low-yield tech grenade. Just a minuscule flash grenade, actually, surely nothing that could even only injure someone - yet it was enough. Immediately, Tali jumped up again and could pass the confused Leng. In rage, he stabbed at her blindy, but she ducked below the knife and ran.

It took only two or three seconds, and afterwards Leng could focus on her again. He growled and brought the knife to an attack position again - only to face Tali holding a pistol. The quarian, of course, had run to where Leng had let his guns fall down. She had to admit, his tactic to bring several light weapons had been, theoretically, a good foil against her sabotage attempts, but he had ruined it all again with his own cockiness.

Tali fired and fired and fired. When the pistol overheated, she simply picked up the next. With an enraged howl, Leng ran away. And he was _fast_. With the battle around them still not subsiding, he was quickly lost in the chaos.

_The __ship__!_ With her omni-tool lost, the captured systems were most likely in a chaos. There was a chance that Tali could take control of it from the cockpit, but she had to act quickly, before Leng could pre-empt her. Hastily, she ran up the ram towards its entrance - when a sudden flash of overwhelming pain hit her right arm. Her own knife stuck inside it. _An __expert __knife __fighter __indeed__..._ Against too slow objects, mass effect shields were useless; they had to be or they would also stop all air from entering. And Kai Leng had used that fact. A wave of nausea, cold and dizziness hit her, but she dragged herself into the ship. The first thing she did there was to close the door behind her.

Tali leaned against the wall, and slid down. She set her helmet's filter to the highest levels, mindful of the atmospheric changes she had caused on the ship. Then, she carefully began to remove the knife from her wound. It was a long, painful process. Agony rocked through her arm at every inch of the way. She hoped her limb would not suffer any long term consequences.

At three different points her envirosuit had been breached now. She now realized how knives, in a way, were actually more deadly to quarians than bullets. Bullets usually did not leave such large holes in the suit. There was blood all around her. She tried to apply medi-gel as good as she could without an omni-tool. _Strange __to __be __without __one__..._ The last time she had been was... _Must __have __been __eight__... __or __nine__... __Oh __that__'__s __not __good__. _Tali felt how her thoughts were slipping from her. _Shock __from __the __blood __loss__. __Maybe __infection __already__... __No__... __can__'__t __sleep __just __yet__... __not __yet__..._

She waited some moments to see if the medi-gel worked; a futile gesture since she had no omni-tool to check on that fact. Then she painfully got up again, and half walked and half crawled toward the ship cockpit. Luckily, she encountered no closed or sealed doors. _Sloppy __security__. _What she did encounter, though, were hastily opened weapons lockers. Apparently, the Cerberus troops had suited up in a hurry and then had just left everything behind, confident they would return after a victory.

It was another lucky break for Tali. Among the items in the lockers she found an unequipped omni-tool. True, it was not hers and it was decidedly sub par, but she got it to start properly, and it would hopefully help her in the cockpit. Said cockpit turned out to be relatively large, since it also doubled as the ship's 'command centre' of sorts. It was more of a ship bridge, really. Still, the helmsman's chair was easily spotted. She dragged herself to it and booted up the ship's systems.

The systems' security was cutting edge, as she had come to expect from Cerberus. And all she had against it was a cheap, commercial level omni-tool with no pre-written intrusion tools. _Hacking __on __the __fly __against __Cerberus __security __while __suffering __from __blood __loss__... __at __least __I__'__ll __have __quite __a __tale __to __tell__. __If __I __make __it __out __of __this__. _She barely even had the energy to curse this foreign, cheap piece of electronic shit on her wrist anymore. It simply would have to do. _Come __on__..._

Internal security and the doors were the first things she took control of. If she was unlucky, Leng had used the time to already enter the ship again, but she just had to trust that her good fortune would hold. Next she started up the main reactor. Every such step was a constant fight against Cerberus security programs, while she had absolutely none, but somehow she managed it. Hastily and thus inevitably sloppily written command routines, poorly designed scripts and most of all, her ingenuity and cleverness were her weapons. While it was a struggle, it seemed to be enough. After all, the security programs were still reeling from her first takeover of them.

Then she stumbled about something interesting. _What__'__s __this__... __Point __Defence__? __Seriously__, __point __defence__? _A giddy feeling spread in Tali. What she had discovered appeared to be like a miniature version of the Alliance Navy's GARDIAN system. She breathed in and out. The ship had light GARDIAN lasers aboard. _Time __to __fulfill __Tisiphone__'__s __order__. __Time __to __kill __them __all__. __After __all__, __a __good __quarian __always __follows __orders__. _A silly giggle resulting from blood loss and relief rocked her.

And then she released hell on the Cerberus troops in the docking bay.

Battle-grade lasers cut through them, through their shields, through equipment behind which they had sought cover. The weapons proved to be heavy enough that mere foot troops had no defence against them, but light enough for Tali to aim them without causing friendly fire to Tisiphone's biotics. If it had been a regular GARDIAN system, the latter would most likely not have been the case, but as it was, Tali could wield it as a precise, never ceasing instrument of death against Cerberus.

Moments later, she cleared the ship's atmosphere and opened its doors again. Fortunately, Tisiphone understood. Two biotics ran to take up position at the ship door. They kept every angle of the docking bay in their line of fire, in case some Cerberus troops had escaped. And some had, Tali knew that. At least Leng had. The rest of the biotics spread out in the room again to provide security. Informed by Mitra, Sanders came running into the room, carrying a struggling Gillian. As she passed the various biotics, they joined her in running to the ship, building a tight safety cordon around her.

A shot rang. One of the biotics fell down. Two of his companions stopped, and began to drag him behind them. Another shot rang but it missed its aim widely. _What __happened __there__?_ But Tali could not wonder anymore. As soon as the wounded biotic had been brought aboard, as last of the group, she closed and sealed the doors and began the undocking process.

Moments later, Tisiphone and some other biotics came running onto the bridge - and saw a a wounded quarian sprawled on the helm chair with hardly any energy left, filling it with her blood, yet determined to stay awake, still clinging firecely to the control console and even controlling the ship.

It was Tisiphone who first broke the shocked silence and who walked up to Tali. "It... It seems I owe you," she said quietly and respectfully. "Maybe we all owe you our lives. Now, rest. Yong will take over."

The man already came running onto the bridge, but stood still when he saw the helm chair still occupied. He looked at Tisiphone, and the two carefully and respectfully helped Tali up from it, and then basically carried her to another seat. _The __captain__'__s __seat__, _the quarian noted with some amusement. As did Tisiphone: "You've earned it", she said with a grin. "Don't worry, we'll get you to medical as soon as we can actually man that station."

The docking bay's doors opened, and majestically, the ship began to rise. Moments later, it left the confines of the station, and was free in space. _Soon__, __soon __we __can __leave __this __all __behind __us__..._

But they did not. Instead Yong took the ship on a course that would lead it to a planetary orbit above Elysium. _What __is __he __doing__? _The biotic stood in front of the helm's chair, completely focused on the controls in front of him.

"They're taking the bait!" another biotic, who seemed to have taken over the sensors, announced enthusiastically "They're coming around to attack us!"

_Attack__? __Another __attack__? _That was not good, especially the way the ship was flying. Tali noticed how their movement was anything but smooth, and looking at a small holographic map her chair could conjure up, its course was terribly inefficient. _What__'__s __Yong __doing__?_ She already began to get up again. It appeared she would have to take the helm again.

Before she could leave her seat, she was softly pushed back again by Tisiphone. "You stay where you are. Yong knows what he's doing."

"But..." Tali began.

"He's an expert pilot, actually," Tisiphone said. "Don't worry. This ship's reactor and systems are excellent. Once the Cerberus ship gets too close, we'll be out of here in no time."

"The... Cerberus ship...?" Tali asked. "Oh." She had all forgotten about the _second_ Cerberus ship that had been approaching the station.

"We've sent live footage of Gillian over to them," Tisiphone explained. "And they think we have no idea how to fly this ship." She grinned. "That's all intentional."

"You were right it seems," Mitra agreed, "they have no interest to meddle with our occupation. They've just come for Gillian. Two entire ships for her!"

Tisiphone nodded. "So for now, we're diverting them away from the station. They've changed course, away from it and towards us. Since they think we can't handle the ship they also think they can overpower us. So, we'll let them catch on. Once they have, we'll use our superior engines to get away, and they'll be far enough away from the station to not bother with it again. At least, we hope so."

Tali just nodded. This made sense to her, but she had no more power to comment on it. She saw how Sanders entered the bridge. The VI expert shot angry glares to Tisiphone, but did not say anything. Probably because Gillian stood at her side. The girl looked ghostly pale. Even though she still hardly carried any facial expressions, Tali could see she was afraid. She wished she could smile reassuringly at her, but that was hardly possible.

"They're coming dangerously close," the impromptu sensor 'specialist' reported. She sounded worried.

"We'll still wait a bit," Tisiphone ordered. "We need to drag them out further. They'll want to make sure, and our shields can take some punishment. Wait... Wait..."

"Energy spike!" the woman at the sensors shouted. Moments later, everybody aboard felt a slight dizziness, as everybody and everything ever so slightly changed in mass. The ship's mass effect field generator had been affected as their shields had been hit. _Hitting __a __ship __in __lower __orbit __than __them__. __How __very __Cerberus__. _Had the shot missed it would have hurled straight on to Elysium. The planet was still thinly enough settled that it almost certainly would not have hit any settlements, but given that it had been accelerated to some percentage points of _c__,_ the ecological fallout could potentially have been grave.

"Okay, that's more than enough," Tisiphone decided. "Yong, take us out of here!"

"With pleasure!" the man said and began to type hastily on the console in front of him. Immediately, Tali felt lighter. The mass effect field generators were lowering everybody's mass as the ship accelerated. And suddenly, the flight was _very_ smooth indeed. It appeared Yong _did_ know what he was doing.

"Detecting three squadrons of orbital fighter craft scrambling towards us," the sensor 'specialist' announced. "Elysium is surely wondering what the hell is happening here."

"I hope they wipe the floor with those Cerberus bastards," one of the biotics growled.

"They can't afford to be any sympathetic to us, either," Tisiphone answered. "Not after their Declaration of Non-Compliance. They'd be branded as haven for terrorists and pirates. We have to get away from them, too."

"Get away to _where__?_" Sanders asked aggressively. "In all your lack of planning, have you ever considered _that_ little detail?"

Tali turned in her chair and looked towards her. The blonde VI specialist was shivering in suppressed rage, and next to her Gillian looked absolutely lost. The girl's plight touched her.

"There's..." she began weakly. "There's a place." A place where Sanders was a celebrity and where they would appreciate a captured ship. However, also a place where their arrival would be a serious breach of security and a place where such things were the first issues she was supposed to think about. In any case she had everybody's attention.

She looked again at Gillian. A biotic. A biotic child. An innocent and vulnerable biotic child abused for her powers. Just like the kids on BAaT had been. And finally, an innocent and vulnerable biotic child abused for her powers _by __Cerberus__. _It made her head dizzy. This would have pushed _all __of_ Shepard's buttons, all at once. She could imagine how he would have raged about it. And thus she knew what she had to do.

"The Migrant Fleet," she managed to get out. Her father would be furious. She did not care. "We're going... _home__._"

And with that, she passed out.

**000000**

**[1] **The Assignment 'UNC: Hades' Dogs' of ME 1, written about in chapter 16 of TFHS.

**[2] **Since I also mentioned international law last chapter, in fairness it should also be mentioned that the order to not give quarter has been explicitly defined as a war crime already all the way back in the Hague Convention of 1907...


	10. Ch8: Udina, Tisiphone

"Hm, the view from this place is even better than the view the Speaker must have," Udina said. "Again, I must thank you for your invitation."

He currently sat in a VIP guest lounge of the Alliance Parliament. It was very similar to a theatre box: A small room where he was in private together with his associates, located right beneath the ceiling and slightly looming over the parliament's backbenches. All sides facing the parliament hall were glass, so the view was indeed fantastic. One could see nearly every single MP.

"Oh, no need to thank us, Mr Udina," the other man at the table answered. "We're all allies here."

That much was true, but Udina still felt the need to show gratitude. He had no delusions about his current standing. After he had lost his position on the Citadel to that senile old woman Goyle, due to that treacherous dog Shepard, he could at most serve as a pawn in the political games of others. So it was quite an honour indeed to be invited personally by Rakesh Kaushik, the CEO of Hoshichiri Heavy Industries. The mining and manufacturing company was the second largest corporation in the colonies behind Eldfell-Ashland, and heavily involved in the ongoing tensions. Rumour had it they were currently troubled with a series of heavy problems in their data networks, but Udina was sure that was nothing they could not handle.

Besides Kaushik and him, there were two other people present: Sano Katone, the chairwoman of the Alliance Chamber of Colonial Commerce, and Marie Garot, the CEO of 'Future Development Visions', a lobbying firm in the EU. Europe was currently the politically most troublesome Earth nation for her clients and she had cleverly used that fact to gain quite a measure of influence. The ACCC, meanwhile, represented nearly all major companies with a presence in the colonies, including Hoshichiri, but also dozens of others.

"Look at them," Sano said with distaste. "Only blabbering all day long. All talk and no action."

As a successful cut throat businesswoman, she had to know that any public parliament sessions were just showmanship anyway, and that all real decisions were made in the various committees and subcommittees. Udina could understand her frustration, though, given the current situation.

"Three colonies now, which are in the hand of traitors," Sano went on heatedly. "Three of our four most important colonies, too."

It had taken some time, but finally Eden Prime had joined in with their political allies on Terra Nova and Elysium and had declared non-compliance, too. Of the three worlds, Eden Prime was still the most moderate and sensible one, the most careful one and the one which would ideally have liked to avoid any extreme measures. However, after the other two colonies had taken the lead, the planet had been forced to either side with them or return to the loyal fold, and given that choice they had decided on the former.

Sano continued: "And does the government send in the Navy? No, they talk."

_A pipe dream. _As much as it frustrated Udina himself, using military violence in the situation was virtually unthinkable. The electorate would not support it, and even most politicians outside the far right would not support it. _Of course_ the Alliance government would try deescalation and negotiations first, like any civilized government. Contrary to what the dissident colonies thought, the Alliance was not the villain.

It was Garot who put Udina's thoughts into words and into a more pragmatic formulation: "We're all frustrated by this, but you know very well it isn't that easy. Elections are in three months**[1]**, and all of our PR campaigns couldn't hold up the current government if they start a civil war."

Sano and Kaushik shifted uncomfortably at the mention of that term. It was somewhat of an exaggeration: A campaign in the colonies would not be an Alliance wide civil war. Most likely it would be over in a matter of a few weeks. It still was a complete impossibility, though. The mind boggled at the very prospect of Alliance marines trying to conquer Alliance colonies by force. _No, that won't happen. _The infuriating thing was how things had gotten so bad in the first place.

"So we're currently not even able to reign in secessionist colonies," Udina hence concluded. "And all that because of Shepard."

"Shepard, his creature Goyle and those sell-out quislings in Europe" Sano agreed. "And only one of them is dead so far."

"They hate their own race," Kaushik commented. There was no real rancor in his voice; instead he cultivated an aura of academic analysis. "That's why they do it. Their cult of individualism, which they want to force on everybody else, cannot stand any notions of racial greatness or human potential. They're fascists who want to impose their worldview on everybody else."

Sano shook her head. "They're just jealous, that's all there is to it. We're talking about those people here who've never been successful, whether in business or politics. They don't work hard enough; they don't have the right talents, whatever. They see that others have success and want to bring them down. If that also brings down the Alliance and humanity, well, they just don't care."

Garot smirked at those comments. It was a condescending smirk that clearly telegraphed that she did not agree with what had been said. However, she kept silent, and so did Udina. He did not really care about the motivations of those people. They were the enemy, and that was enough for him to know. An internal enemy potentially more dangerous than any external enemies the Alliance ever had.

"After the First Contact War, humanity stood united, free of petty internal squabbles, and ready to take on the galaxy," Kaushik said. "Since then, values have degraded. Be it by contact with the aliens, especially those decadent asari, liberal academia, or subversive elements in our media, fact is human society has been decaying ever since the end of the war. They don't remember the values anymore which have made humanity great. Values of self-reliance, sacrifice and freedom." He paused and grimaced. "And now it has come to this". He pointed to the plenary hall below him.

Udina recognized the man currently speaking. Claudius Schuhmann, the government's spokesman.

"For all those reasons, the Alliance Government stands by its de-escalation policy," Schuhmann was saying. "We do not wish conflict with our own colonies and not only do we believe a peaceful solution is possible, in fact we're working on it right now. Even a peaceful stand-off would still be better than any further escalation of the situation. The Alliance Government _will _restore human unity, but the only way to do that is to keep and maintain human _peace_."

"Pathetic!" Kaushik commented. "Politically understandable, but still pathetic."

"What next?" Sano asked rhetorically. "This weak government wants to apologize for the Alliance. Apologize!"

This time, Garot rolled her eyes, but still kept quiet.

Below him, Udina could see unrest in parliament about Steiner's words. Especially the benches to the right side of the Speaker got ever more agitated, while MPs on the far left began to shout back at them.

"There certainly is no order anymore in the Alliance," he commented. "Not even here."

Garot shrugged. "Really, I have to ask, what have you all expected? We've all known the Alliance government will be a lame duck until the elections. Of course they won't do anything, that isn't news. What's much more problematic is the European Union."

"True," Kaushik commented. His grimace betrayed that he did not really feel that way.

"They've sent a delegate to make some announcement," Garot continued, "and the problem is we have no idea what it will be. Normally the government would never do something apparently major without consulting one of the firms."

"So in your opinion, the EU government currently represents the most dangerous situation?" Udina asked.

"Well, not as much as the non-compliant colonial governments," Garot answered, "but here on Earth... the problem is the sudden popularity their government coalition has. Before Shepard's revelations it was as good as dead. Mostly because the economic development lagged behind the other Earth nations." She paused. Udina knew what she was just leaving out: That the large corporations, who had not been amicable to the centre-left government from the beginning, had not been entirely faultless at this. "So none of the parties wanted to risk recall elections under any circumstances. They'd have lost, badly. So when Shepard committed his betrayal, that made it easier for the two smallest, most extreme parties in the coalition to blackmail the rest. _They_ would have gone into the opposition if need be. Idealist fools."

"I don't think one can call supporting treason idealistic," Kaushik commented.

Garot shrugged again. "Call it what you want. Fact is, surprisingly, that policy of supporting Shepard's revelations became widely popular in Europe. Who doesn't want to be on the side of justice, blah blah. And besides it was a good way for them to contrast themselves against the neighbouring Russians and Arabs, who both condemned Shepard. And seeing how popular the policy is, the European government now pushes it forward with all of its power."

Udina thought the explanation for the popularity of the government course was much simpler. Shepard's actions had a high level of support in all of the more developed Earth nations, including North America and China. It was only due to government opposition and different traditions of patriotism in those countries that they had ended up so divided on the issue. As far as he was concerned, the spoiled societies of the Big Three nations had descended into decadence.

Kaushik shook his head. "Can't they understand? How they hurt humanity? For a patriot the most important duty is always to think of humanity first."

Udina would not have formulated it so melodramatically, but the Hoshichiri CEO had a point. Whatever one's thoughts were on what had happened back on Gagarin Station, Shepard's revelations and all these protests had no other effect than hurting the Alliance. In fact, in his opinion, BAaT had been fully justified, even its more extreme measures. Getting working biotics had been an important part in establishing humanity on the galactic scene. Surely that consideration had to override anything else.

"They don't understand in fact," he answered. "What do they think we should have done in the 60s? How else do they think we should have harnessed biotic power without selling ourselves out to the Council?

Sano nodded. Then she turned to Garot and asked: "So they don't really believe in that stuff? The European government, I mean."

"Those two smaller parties sure do," Garot answered, "as for the rest - well, until some months ago they were happily taking our clients' money. Now they've probably figured that their populism will help them get more votes than that money ever could. The worst thing is they're probably right about that. It's just opportunism, nothing more."

"What about those two smaller parties?" Sano asked. "Surely it's common policy to spread party donations wide and far."

"Sure," Garot confirmed, "and they've gotten money from our clients, too. But not as much. Party donations are an investment; you'll spend the most on those parties where you can expect the highest returns. And that's not far left parties. You only want to make them consider it twice before going against you, you don't actually want them to win elections. Unfortunately, Shepard's revelations were so outrageous to them that they ended up _not_ thinking twice about it."

"I see," Sano answered. "And speaking of the devil, the delegate from Europe has the podium."

The Earth nations were officially fully sovereign and independent, but on the other hand financed nearly the entirety of the Alliance budget with their contributions**[2]**. For that reason, their governments had the right to speak in the Alliance Parliament, either in personal addresses by their heads of state or government, or in the form of delegates.

The delegate the EU had sent was was a smallish, black-skinned woman, who now began to address the Alliance Parliament: "Mrs Speaker, esteemed Members of Parliament, honourable fellow guests. The government of the European Union is watching the current crisis with great sorrow and concern. Most of all, we fear a further escalation of the situation, and while we appreciate the Alliance's efforts to prevent that, we've decided to take own measures in this regard. We respect the Alliance government's commitment to peace, and we have no doubt about its genuineness, but we fear that not all humans share it. To be entirely frank, the European Union cannot exclude the possibility of the Alliance government changing its currents course under outside pressure, and this prospect is entirely unacceptable to us. We pay for a large part of the Alliance's budget**[2]**, and we will not see this money going to, in the worst of all cases, war."

Mentioning this unthinkable word caused a flurry of excited or even angry chatter in the plenary hall. Unperturbed, the European delegate continued: "The government of the European Union has committed itself to do everything in its power to prevent this worst case scenario from happening, or at least decrease its likelihood as best we can. This includes some quite drastic measures, but we feel the threat of inner-human conflict looming above us all justifies that and more. What we need now is more than just words; we need rather active peacekeeping. Therefore, the European Union will do just that: Deploying peacekeepers. Starting today, with the agreement of the respective colonial governments, the 4th, 10th and 13th divisions of the European Union Armed Forces will be moved to Terra Nova, Eden Prime and Elysium, respectively."

The uproar from the parliament benches was deafening.

"What?" Kaushik shouted, while Sano muttered: "They can't be serious."

Speaking above the unrest in the plenary hall, the European delegate went on: "We're fully aware that this is an extraordinary step, and we also understand that any troop movements in these heated times might raise further fears. The European Union wants to stress that we have absolutely no aggressive intentions whatsoever, and that this step is purely for peacekeeping. Nonetheless, should any of those planets come under attack, by whatever forces, they _will_ help to repel it."

A loud shout rang through the plenary hall: "Traitor!" A plastic cup was thrown and missed the delegate by some mere centimetres.

She winced in reaction but then resumed her speech undaunted: "However, we hope that it shall never come to that. The primary aim of those troops, their instrument of peacekeeping, shall be deterrence. This means..."

A further hail of plastic cups, pencils and other stuff began to hit her. Somebody on the far left side of the parliament shouted: "Leave her alone!" Several people from that side walked up to the podium and formed a barrier around the delegate.

The Speaker shouted: "Order, order!" but nobody seemed to listen to her. The European delegate simply went on speaking, but she seemed to finally have lost her composure. Now she shouted and sounded aggressive and threatening: "This mean we do not actually plan for them to fight, but... but _listen to me! _It does mean we'll see any strike against our forces as an act of war! We seriously hope that anybody in the Alliance thinking about attacking the colonies will think twice abou..."

MPs from the far-right benches came charging towards her. The Parliament members who had surrounded the podium were facing them. As soon as the two groups had reached each others, fists began to fly. A brawl began to form, which soon drew ever more MPs into it. Soon, boxing fights erupted even on the benches.

"We should best leave," Kaushik said coolly.

The others nodded and left the lounge. As they were outside, in a corridor, Garot lamented: "This is a disaster! How have they've been able to keep this hidden from us? I tell you, heads will roll!"

"It's a disaster for _humanity_!" Sano shouted. She sounded incredulous that Garot would think about her own firm first.

"Oh stop it," Garot shouted back. Distressed as she was, her suave façade cracked. "All your talk about humanity, you really mean that, don't you? What perfect self-delusion. Let me tell you how it really is: We need to defend our privileged positions. It's anarchists like Shepard who want to do away with that and throw us all into chaos."

Sano seemed to boil, but before she could answer, Kaushik intervened: "Please. You two make a false dichotomy anyway. We _are_ humanity. It's been due to _us_ that humanity has reached the place it currently has. Due to us, our parents or our ancestors. What you call privileged positions, Ms Garot, is just the fruit of our labour, including yours. So we're damn justified in defending that against Shepard and, as you so rightly call them, anarchists."

Garot seemed to have composed herself again. "A very elegant formulation. You're right, of course. And what are those secessions if not signs of disorder and anarchy. Those, and a brawl in the Alliance Parliament. _A brawl in the Alliance Parliament!_ Everything's going to hell."

"True," Kaushik agreed. "Though we should acknowledge that some of the MPs only acted out of very understandable and even justified patriotic anger." He looked to Sano and said: "Maybe we should push the schedule ahead."

Udina had no idea what he was talking about. The two women seemed to be in the know, though. Sano looked surprised and asked: "With the Europeans now on those planets?"

"One more reason," Kaushik insisted. "Before they have fully established themselves. There are still patriots in the Alliance. The Navy especially remains a bastion of rightful patriotic sentiment. The Alliance Government would sell them out, would sell out everything the Navy has fought for, everything its brave soldiers have died for. Luckily, some of them realize that."

000000

The view from the bridge was _fantastic._ Tisiphone had never seen anything like it in her life. There were lights piercing through the blackness of space, lights everywhere as far as the eye could see, as if some god suddenly had installed thousands of new stars. And this was merely the backdrop; the lights of the ships further away. Close up Tisiphone could see them more clearly: Ships in all sizes, in all shapes, from all races and regions of the galaxy. A dazzling array of ship types, a mind boggling armada of vessels.

Tisiphone marvelled at how elegant most of them looked. She knew most of them were ridiculously old, that some of them had seen centuries pass by, and that all of them had been retrofitted several times. Yet, most of them looked oddly sleek, full of graceful curves or with shapes that seemed more aesthetically pleasing than useful. Beyond the surface, the Migrant Fleet was just a travelling nomad camp, but it looked like so much more.

That was where they had arrived: The Migrant Fleet. The ship she and her group - or rather the ship _Tali_ had captured, had already reached the outskirts of it hours ago and was now finally approaching the bigger ships in the centre. Seeing them was almost enough compensation for the fights Tisiphone had had to endure to get there. Almost.

_On reflection, the losses were still too grave. We got Gillian out, but... _They had lost one group member in the firefight on Grissom Station. Marc Lee, a young L3 biotic. He had joined Kyle's groups and later Tisiphone's _activities_ because his ultrareligious family had shunned him ever since his biotic potential had been discovered. They had sent him to Grissom Academy, of course, as good patriotic Alliance citizens. And then they had tried to keep him away from them as much as possible. Marc had felt all alone in the world, before picking up one of Kyle's calls on the extranet. He had felt enraged when he had seen his fate repeated over and over in other biotics, and even considerably worse in the BAaT survivors. That was why he had periodically joined in Tisiphone's activities. And now he was dead.

Two more group members had been heavily injured, but were gradually healing, with a good outlook. Not that anybody in the group had any serious medical training, but the ship's medical diagnostic electronics had proven to be quite good. Fortunately, the systems were optimistic about both cases. Unfortunately, the same could not be said about Tali. All medical electronics and programs aboard had been designed with human patients in mind, and hence had not worked on her. Worse, due to her different amino chirality, all medicine aboard was useless. She had her own reserve of medicine with her, but using it up had been all the medical help she had gotten. It had taken just a few days to reach the Flotilla, but in that time, she had developed a heavy fever and had drifted in and out of consciousness a few times. Things were not looking good.

Luckily, Tali had been awake and lucid enough to send a code to Fleet Command, verifying that it was indeed her returning and not some hostile ship. That 'code' had in fact been a very poetic phrase, but amidst Tali's coughs and groans it had lost all elegance. Tisiphone was really worried about her. It was quite possible her group had only won the battle on Grissom Station due to the quarian. She hence owed her life to Tali. Yet it seemed Tali's own life was dangling on a very thin string.

At the moment, Yong was initiating a docking manoeuvre with a larger ship. The biotic pilot had done a fantastic job with the captured ship, and he too was paying a price. He had rarely slept in recent days, and had in fact been sitting in the pilot's chair most of the time. He had truly become the _Golden Dog's _master. _And what a name, too. _Tali had not been able to realize it, being unfamiliar with human mythology and Earth biology, but the ship bore the reference to Cerberus already in its name.

The ship at her side dwarfed the _Dog_, though: The heavy cruiser _Neema_, Tali's home ship. She was not quite as big that the _Dog_ could have fit into her docking bays, but there was no doubt she had several times the mass of the smaller vessel. Its facade, full of lights and mighty looking structures, began to fill out the view from the bridge. To Tisiphone, massive feats of engineering were nothing new. She had been imprisoned on a space station for several years after all. And yet, she still found the _Neema's_ broadside to be an amazing view.

The docking manoeuvre came to a conclusion. The _Golden Dog_ was now connected to the _Neema_, hanging on to the larger ship like a sloppy extension of it. Tisiphone watched the sensors. The _Dog's_ sterilization chamber had been activated; the quarians must have entered the vessel. _Good thing, too. I can hardly wait to give Tali and this ship to them, hand over responsibility and..._

By instinct she swirled around. Quarians stormed onto the bridge, weapons drawn. They occupied tactical positions around them, and kept their guns up. Tisiphone knew the quarians were supposed on their side, that at the very least they were not an enemy. Nonetheless, when she saw them charging in, she drew her own weapon. She saw that some other biotics had also managed to do so before the quarians were properly positioned. Others had not, and now hesitated to do so with armed quarians all around.

"What's going on here?" Tisiphone shouted. She took aim at the quarian next to her, a man in a bright red envirosuit. "What's the meaning of this?"

The quarian returned the hostile gesture, but his answer was polite, if stiff: "Migrant Fleet Marines, ma'am. We've been ordered to secure this vessel. And that's what we're going to do."

"You can _have_ this ship," Tisiphone replied aggressively. "There's no reason to threaten us!"

"We're sorry, ma'am," the quarian continued, "but we have to take you and the other humans into custody. Until we've completely cleared your background, we have to treat you as a potential security risk to the Migrant Fleet."

"_Custody?"_ Tisiphone spat out. _So much for the Flotilla being a safe haven for us. _Tisiphone was sure Tali could have solved this problem with her people within seconds, but unfortunately the engineer was in the ship's small medbay again, and not in a good state. _Damn, we're wasting our time here._

"That's how it starts," another biotic cut in. "They take you into custody. And then, what are you gonna do?" Farooq, another BAaT survivor, said. Where Tisiphone was vengeful, Farooq was paranoid. Which was equally understandable given their background, but it did not really help the situation.

The two sides kept their weapons raised and armed at each other. "Please, ma'am," the quarian in the red envirosuit began again. "I have to ask you to surrender your weapons and come with us. If you do not, then we'll be forced to shoot. Despite our standoff, your group could not win or survive such a confrontation."

"But we could take some of you with us," Tisiphone threatened. The answer came almost without thinking, so much had this attitude been ingrained into her. She hesitated. "So, let's find a better way?" Again she paused. "For Tali's sake at least. She needs medical help, from her own people, fast."

This seemed to make the quarian hesitate. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we're under orders. Tali'Zorah is with you, but you're still an evident breach in standard fleet security procedures and we have to act accordingly."

_Oh, for fuck's sake. _An impatient rage ran through Tisiphone. Normally, she did not hold back her rage anymore. She had been forced down once in her life, and that was enough. Now she usually simply let her rage free reign and to hell with the consequences. It was not like she had anything worth living for, so as far as she was concerned, she could as well use the few positive consequences of that and not take shit from anybody.

But this time was different. It was not just her life on the line. It was not even just the lives of her group on the line. There was also Tali, and she owed Tali. The quarian needed help now.

Tisiphone snarled. Then she let her pistol fall down. Everybody else on the bridge was watching her in surprise or even shock. "All right. As long as you do it quick and finally get Tali to a proper hospital or whatever you have here."

"Will do, ma'am," Kal answered. "Thank you." He waved to some of his marines who left the bridge; hopefully in fact for the medbay. "However..." He looked around in the room. Some of Tisiphone's biotics were still armed.

She looked at every one of them. One let his pistol fall down, too, and another one slowly, hesitatingly lowered hers and then let it slide to the ground. Farooq did nothing of that sort, though. He held his weapon upward, undaunted by the several quarian rifles aimed at him. His hands were slightly shaking, yet the grip on his pistol seemed to tighten.

Slowly, Tisiphone lowered her hands again and walked to him.

"I won't give myself into anybody else's custody again," Farooq more whispered than said. It sounded strained. "Never again."

"I won't let them harm you," Tisiphone told him. "You have my word. I won't let any of us come to harm. You know I'd go down fighting first."

A single tear appeared on Farooq's face. In a slow but determined move, Tisiphone took a hold of his gun. He did not resist. She let it drop to the ground and hugged him. He needed comfort; she knew how that was. She needed it often enough herself. "It's okay. Nobody is going to hurt you again. It's okay. I won't let them."

She left her hand on his shoulder as she guided him outwards, into the _Neema_, surrounded by the Migrant Fleet Marines.

**000000**

**[1] **Seeing as how Saracino and Terra Firma are campaigning in ME 1, elections have to be not all that far off.

**[2] **There's little information in canon on how the Systems Alliance works, politically. We know it's responsible for everything outside Earth itself, with the colonies etc. as part of its jurisdiction, while the single Earth nations remain independent and sovereign. However we can assume that the Earth nations finance it. Maybe even nearly the entirety of its budget.

Think about it: The Alliance Navy is large enough to be considered a competitor of the Citadel powers' fleets. The Alliance could never build and maintain such a fleet with just a tiny fraction of humanity as its economical base. The largest colony is 4m people (as per explicitly stated ME 1 canon, and that's what I'm going by) and it goes down from there; going by CDN and planetary descriptions most colonies seem to have only a four or five digit population. I'd assume less than 100m humans live in space, maybe even considerably less people. Considering humanity has only been in space for about a generation at that point this makes a certain amount of sense. Hence, presumably still more than 99% of it lives on Earth (and hence if Earth were to be destroyed, one potential outcome of the Reaper invasion, humanity would be down to quarian levels. Earth is _everything_.).

Thus it stands to reason that the Earth nations pay for the Alliance, because so far only they have the necessary economical base to cover all the Alliance's expenses. This would even be in their own interest: Thus they ensure their economies get the precious raw materials from the colonies which have made the ongoing boom on Earth for the last two decades (as per the Earth codex entry and the planetary description of Therum) possible. This explanation also makes sense considering that the Alliance grew out of the joint space programs of the Earth nations, as per the Codex. Thus, while not _territory_ of the Alliance, the Earth nations are probably _members_ of the Alliance as a political organization akin to UN or (present day) EU. Which would mean the Alliance has an interesting political hybrid nature between an, err, alliance and a sovereign state in its own right (in the colonies), but I digress.

Point is, the Earth nations probably pay for the Alliance, and as three Great Powers on Earth as confirmed per canon, the European Union, the United North American States and the People's Federation of China most likely pay the largest amounts.

**000000**

**And the irony is I'm rather a**** Eurosceptic...**


	11. Ch9: Tisiphone III

Purely intellectually, Tisiphone had already known before how overcrowded the Migrant Fleet was. After the Alliance had dumped her after her torture on Gagarin Station, she had made a concerted effort to catch up with the world, to get some education. To be more than the mindless mob who had no idea what the government was doing and just blindly approved of everything it did. She aspired to be better, more civilized, more knowledgeable. Thus she had read up on just about everything and hence she had known about the living conditions of the quarians.

However, she had never actually realized what those conditions meant.

On a human ship, chances were the group could have gotten a guest room. Or maybe, if space was tight and security not a problem, they would have been spread among several bunking rooms. On the _Neema_, though, every bit of non-essential space had _already_ been converted into habitats. Used habitats at that. There simply was no room to be given to them. Thus, the quarians had basically stored them into a docking bay. And, pragmatical as they were, it was actually the bay the _Golden Dog_ was connected to. _So much for seeing much of the Fleet's interior. _

Another reason for their enforced location was the risk of infection. Even aboard their ships it seemed the quarians had to wear envirosuits, and everybody who did not had to be treated as a risk to quarian health. Especially if they were aliens potentially spreading foreign biomaterial. Luckily, docking bays were designed to be easily sterilized and besides, few people lived there anyway. But even here some did. That was how Tisiphone was able to see just how overcrowded the ship was: Even in the docking bay, there seemed to be some quarians at least temporarily living there.

The group had been placed as far away as possible from those makeshift dwellings, and the quarians had not allowed them to go anywhere. The only exception to that was Kahlee Sanders. In the last hours, quarians had brought her to some interviews, back to the group, back for some more interviews and so on. Every time the VI specialist was in the docking bay, she shot dark glances at Tisiphone. Meanwhile, Gillian stayed with Hendel Mitra in the bay, but the two kept some distance from Tisiphone and her group. _At least we got her out. We successfully fought to end her abuse__. That's something Marc would have appreciated, too. _

The quarians had separated the group's area of the docking bay with pieces of cloth. That was all the 'housing' they would get. Tisiphone would have protested, if not for the fact things appeared to not be much better for the quarians themselves. For many of them, too, some bits of cloth were everything denoting their living space and protecting their scant privacy. That was something she had already read somewhere once before. As she found out now, there was a difference between knowing about it and seeing it. The almost slum like conditions some quarians seemed to live in, at least in terms of pure habitation space, depressed her.

Yet the quarians did not actually seem downtrodden. Resource poor, sure, but that was something different. All quarians she could see seemed to carry their fate with a stoicism and a serenity that astounded her. Here they were, trapped in their awful envirosuits, herded together on these overaged ships, with barely any privacy - and yet, they simply worked on, like busy bees all over the ship, keeping it fit. They did a good job with it, too. Quarian craftsmanship, engineering quality and work ethics were quite, quite far from being slum-like; they were superb.

_But then, of course they'd just carry on. After 300 years, whom__ are they to rage against? The geth? _They seemed to do that actually, from what she had gathered from Tali. Their hate of the geth even surpassed her hate of the Alliance. However, the geth were far away, isolated behind the Perseus Veil, nothing they could strike at. _Or the Council, for keeping them that way?_ Instead, it seemed the quarians were more focused on simply surviving another year, another decade, another generation.

There was one difference between the humans' temporary habitation and the habitation of ordinary quarians: Ordinary quarians did not have guards all around them. Just outside the areas marked by the pieces of cloth, several Migrant Fleet Marines had taken up position. Among them was the one Tisiphone had negotiated with, the one with the bright red envirosuit. _I wonder if he also takes that into battle. Might as well paint a target on it. _

He seemed to be in good standing with his comrades. They approached him with problems and they seemed to look for orders and advice from him. Tisiphone could not listen to everything they had to say, but he seemed to respond to everything calmly and collectedly. He also seemed to joke a lot with his marines. _Good leadership qualities. _Tisiphone had won the trust of her people by going through fire with them and showing dependability again and again. They knew she would die for them, that she valued any of them higher than living on. However, them learning that had been long, painful process. Simply socializing with one's people, as the quarian did, was a better idea, but Tisiphone just was not a social person.

The biotic walked up to the quarian and made her presence known with a cough.

"Ah, Ms... hm, we didn't even introduce ourselves, did we?" he began the conversation. "Sorry about that. I'm Kal'Reegar of the Migrant Fleet Marines."

"Tisiphone. Just Tisiphone," she introduced herself.

"All right ma'am. What can I do for you?" Kal asked.

"I was wondering..." Tisiphone began. "About Tali. About how she's doing."

"Ah." The question seemed to please Kal. "I just heard from the docs a couple of minutes ago, actually. They say she's in bad shape, but things look worse than they actually are. They say her state is 'non-trivial', whatever that means, but they also say she'll get through it. No lasting damages, most likely"

"That's a relief," Tisiphone commented, and meant it. "I was really worried about her."

"Yeah, so I noticed," Kal answered and it sounded approving. "You showed a practically quarian concern for shipmates there. Or teammates, as things were."

"Quarian?" Tisiphone asked amused. _Well, why not?_

"Meaning no offence, ma'am," Kal explained, "but from what I hear... and heh, from what I've seen on my pilgrimage, but I don't want to dwell on _that... _the bonds among crews of other species don't seem to be that close."

"Well, I can only speak for humans, but it wouldn't surprise me," Tisiphone answered. "Caring is a rare quality among humans."

"Strange way to speak about your species," Kal remarked.

"They may be my species, but I care nothing for them," Tisiphone stated. "Not after..." She stopped and shrugged. What would human history be to a quarian marine?

"Not after what? Why would you say so about your own race?" Kal asked. He sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Because I loathe them!" Tisiphone burst out. "Because I loathe humanity and 'human nature' and all that comes with it. There are decent humans of course. Good _humans._ But _humanity_ - well, the best thing that can be said about _humanity _is that we aren't krogan or batarians."

"I see," Kal just said. He did not sound pleased at all.

Tisiphone shrugged again. She had never cared about the approval or disapproval of other people. Maybe Jeanne had, once, but that was long ago. Tisiphone in any case would surely not start now. "In any case, what I wanted to ask is if it's possible that I could visit Tali."

"Hrm," Kal grunted. "Way I understood it she's conscious and awake. And really, just you shouldn't be too much of a risk. Not if I come along to guard you." He paused. "And I think you have a right to see her. So, now?"

"It's not like I have anything better to do here," Tisiphone reminded him.

Kal led her through the corridors of the ship. There were quarians everywhere, standing around, chatting with each other, working. At times it was even difficult to make a way through the crowds. If the _Neema_ had been a human heavy cruiser it would maybe have had about a hundred crew. As a turian ship, where they used less VI-assisted systems, it would maybe have had a crew of a hundred and fifty or two hundred. As a quarian ship, though, the _Neema_ was apparently coming close to housing a four digit figure of people. And while for humans and turians deployment on ships would just be a service post, for the quarians, the ship was their home.

The biotic saw many heads turning as she passed by. She realized there was a good chance none of the quarians here had ever seen an alien aboard one of their ships. Wherever she and Kal went, all talks stopped and after they had passed an excited chattering and whispering began. _At least I got those people something to talk about. There's some use in that at least..._

The section they entered had a weird shape, and the access to it looked very makeshift. Tisiphone wondered what it once had used to be. Surely not habitation space originally, that much was plain. Maybe it once had held a mass driver gun or a large sensor array or something like that. The quarians had apparently converted it into their ship hospital. Even here, conditions were crammed. There was no entrance area or corridor or anything like that, just a large room with rows of beds. Distances between them were minimal.

Her arrival seemed to cause some unrest, but a quick chat between Kal and one of the quarians working here seemed to resolve the issue. The other quarian, a woman in a grey-bluish envirosuit, led the two to an area separated from the rest by curtails. Only four beds were inside it, which by the standards Tisiphone had seen aboard was an almost luxurious use of space. Tali was lying in the extreme left one of the four.

Tisiphone walked up to her. "Hey."

"Tisiphone," Tali acknowledged her. It sounded a bit strained. "Good to see you. I heard there was some trouble after docking. Good to see that was resolved."

"Yeah, well, more or less," Tisiphone answered vaguely. There was no need to stress Tali with details about the affair. "And I hear you're going to get better, too."

"Yes. I..." Tali hesitated and continued in a low, quiet voice: "On our trip here I really thought that would be the end. So, I feel relieved. Even if my body still hurts in a dozen different places."

Tisiphone nodded and wanted to reply, but she was distracted by commotion from outside the curtails. A group of quarians entered, led by two men. One of them was wearing a grey-brownish envirosuit, the other's was in black and white.

It was the latter who spoke up. He completely ignored Tisiphone and addressed Tali: "It's good to see you alive, Tali. I hear you took great risks."

Tali just nodded.

The man continued: "Foolish risks, even. And then you bring these people here," now he looked at Tisiphone, and even though his face was hidden there was no doubt it was a hostile glance, "to the Fleet, endangering its security. Just what were you thinking?"

Tali's answer lacked all the spirit Tisiphone had found in her before. Her voice was formal to the point of almost being monotonic: "I understand several people here have already placed great value on being able to speak with Kahlee Sanders. And I brought this ship for fleet use."

"You stole it, you mean," the man continued. "We cannot accept stolen ships here, that would invite all sorts of trouble. We aren't thieves, no matter what the galaxy thinks of us. You of all people should know that best, Tali. I thought I had taught you this."

Anger boiled in Tisiphone. To see Tali treated like this, after all her heroic deeds... "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

There was excited whispering among the quarians. Judging by their stiff gestures, they seemed to be shocked by Tisiphone's outburst. It was the man in the grey-brownish envirosuit who spoke up now. "We're Admirals of the Board."

That explained the shock. Maybe quarians were cowed by such titles and positions. Tisiphone certainly was not. "And that gives you the right to attack her like that mere hours after her arrival, while she's still being treated?"

"I'm Rael'Zorah," the man in the black and white envirosuit spoke up. "I'm an Admiral of the Board, and I'm her father."

"Her father?" Tisiphone repeated._ You gotta be kidding me! _"Then how about you act like it?"

Tisiphone turned and walked out. _No sense in inviting retribution upon me with further outbursts. _No quarian tried to stop her. Only Kal showed any reaction. Continuing the role as her guard, he followed her outside.

…...

_Four days. Four days already._

That was how long the humans aboard the _Neema_ had been in their makeshift camp in one of her docking bays already. Four days without the quarians coming to any decision regarding them. Four days during which Tisiphone, her group, Mitra Hendel and Gillian could do nothing but idle in their meagre living area designated by pieces of cloth. Unsurprisingly, tempers began to boil, nerves began to show and tensions began to flare. Many felt that what had begun as them being in simple temporary custody until things were cleared up was developing into much more.

Normally, as a sort of de facto group leader, Tisiphone was supposed to calm people down, ease their minds, decrease tensions. She knew this, yet it went totally against her nature. She herself had already protested her group's state several times to the quarian marines guarding them. Like the others, she had been mostly ignored.

_At least Gillian thrives. _The girl, who had been so quiet and emotionless on Grissom Station, seemed to come out of her shell here. She talked freely to the marine guards and had even followed some of them around. The quarians on their part did not seem to mind and even allowed her some strolls with them outside the group's designated 'quarters'. Apparently, they were not insisting on rules and orders so much when it came to children. Tisiphone found this to be a very endearing trait. Seeing how family focused the quarians seemed to be and considering the close bounds of their ship communities, she was reasonably sure nothing would happen to Gillian on these little trips.

Mitra had suggested it was all due to the envirosuits. When talking to quarians instead of humans, Gillian did not have to fear any actual physical contact, at least not skin to skin, and as the quarians' faces were obscured by their masks she also did not need to put up with facial expressions. Both were things she was very uncomfortable with as part of her autistic condition. It seemed the envirosuits of all the quarians around her were almost like a therapy alleviating those symptoms. Mitra saw that in different terms though; he thought that Gillian had to learn to deal with her condition at least to a degree and that the contact with the quarians was not truly helping.

Kahlee Sanders, too, was spared the boredom and restrictions the rest of the group suffered. She continued to be paraded around the quarians, talking to them about various matters of programming and software. In the short moments she had dropped by she had actually looked somewhat stressed. It was a stress Tisiphone almost envied.

The biotic was currently sitting on a pillow, doing nothing. The quarians had provided many of those. She thought that it was a very generous contribution. In fact, given how stretched the quarians were for resources it was already generous how they had been able to scratch together enough levo-amino food for the group, from reserves normally kept on the Fleet as trading goods. _One would think that means they'd be happy to get rid of us as soon as possible. _

She heard some voices from outside the 'walls' of cloth surrounding her. Stepping through them, she saw that their marine guards seemed to have gotten some reinforcements. Several more Migrant Fleet Marines had entered the docking bay. They were led by Kal'Reegar, the quarian in the red envirosuit.

He spotted her. "Ah, Tisiphone, ma'am. I need to talk to you."

The last time Tisiphone had seen him she had just burst out at one of the most powerful five people of the Migrant Fleet, one of the five highest military superiors of Kal. Neither had spoken a word to the other afterward. She hoped this would not make matters too awkward. She did not greatly care what others thought of her, but she was the de facto spokeswomen for the humans, while Kal seemed to be the military officer most often tasked with guarding them. Communication between the two was necessary.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Your group needs to evacuate your camp for some hours," Kal explained. "We're getting a shuttle in. Somebody seems to have returned from his pilgrimage with a really big haul." He sounded amused in a condescending way.

"If the Admiralty would simply let us go, we wouldn't be taking up any space here," Tisiphone reminded him.

"I know, I know," Kal answered. "But I'm no admiral, so spare me your anger. I have no influence at all with their decisions."

Tisiphone grimaced. "And that's the problem with military hierarchies. People just following orders."

"From what I've seen on my pilgrimage," Kal answered, "that isn't much different in other parts of the galaxy."

"Hah, your pilgrimage. Just how long was it?" Tisiphone asked.

That question made Kal hesitate. "Ah... I don't think that's your business. But I saw enough of the galaxy. "

"No, you didn't," Tisiphone answered. "You don't know what these things lead to."

"And what has that to do with anything?" Kal demanded to know. "None of us can do anything about this order right now. If you try to resist it you'll just cause trouble. Not just for you, you'll also cause trouble in our docking routines and everything and _f__or what__?"_

"Ah..." Tisiphone paused. Then she laughed sharply. "You're right. I hadn't even meant to argue against the order, I just got sidetracked by my own comment." It was a bit embarrassing, actually. "Sorry. It's just... the inactivity here isn't doing me any good." She knew that this was a rather lame excuse, but she hoped it would do as a saving face gesture. "I'll tell the others."

Some moments later Tisiphone, her group of biotics and Hendel Mitra had packed their meagre belongings and were walking along one of _Neema's_ corridors, escorted by six Migrant Fleet Marines led by Kal. Sanders was still talking with some quarian software experts and hence was absent. Gillian had been following some Marines again, which was just as well, as it meant she would be occupied for the time that the new ship would dock. Kal was in contact with that group of marines, so there was no need to be worried for her.

Tisiphone was walking next to Kal. She realized that in his eyes she might have made herself a fool several times now already. Even before she had snapped at him she had feared how this might sour the necessary communication between them, and now it seemed that problem had only gotten worse.

She decided to approach the issue head on. "Sorry again for my outburst. I hope this won't lead to any complications between us."

"I hope so as well, ma'am," Kal answered. "But as long as you respect Migrant Fleet authority, it shouldn't be a problem."

"I will, I think," Tisiphone agreed. "Well, depends on what you mean. I'll follow orders as long as I'm here, but don't expect me to apologize to Admiral Rael'Zorah. I behaved foolishly in the docking bay, I admit, but the incident in the hospital is another issue." She paused. "I hope you understand."

"Admiral Rael'Zorah is a member of the Admiralty Board," Kal answered in a stiff and formal voice "He is one of my five most senior military superiors. As a Migrant Fleet Marine, I cannot condone what you've done. We owe respect to his rank and position." He paused and continued in his usual relaxed tone: "But speaking as just me, my own rank and position aside - given certain rumours I've heard on this ship, he might've been direly in need of your little reminder. You didn't address him as an admiral, after all, but as a father."

_Rumours. Of course. _The Migrant Fleet housed seventeen million quarians, but due to their lack of resources, contacts between single ship was rare. Thus, most single communities only had some hundred members, on the smaller ships even only some dozens. And the bonds between their members were tight. Given such conditions, of course there would be many rumours. In any case, Tisiphone was relieved by Kal's answer. Truth be told, she was even a bit touched; the man did not seem to be purely military professionalism and duty as she had thought at first.

" 'On this ship' ?" she quoted him. "So this isn't your ship?"

"I'm part of the Migrant Fleet Marines' mobile teams, ma'am," Kal told her with a certain pride in his voice. "We're sent wherever it's necessary, sometimes even outside the Fleet. Once it was decided you'd dock at the _Neema_ we were sent here."

"Elite troops, huh?" Tisiphone asked with a slight grin, "Well, you quarians need..."

She stopped when Kal raised a hand. Everyone else paused, too, and the group came to a halt. He seemed to listen to something intensely. For a moment he seemed to hesitate; then he took his assault rifle from his back and raised it.

Before Tisiphone or anybody else could protest, and while his marines did the same thing, he explained: "Orders again, ma'am. The docking bay's a battle zone. Armed troops are emerging from the shuttle we expected. Armed _humans_, shooting everyone in sight!"

"What in the name of..." The docking bay was full of civilians as Tisiphone knew. She shook her head and forced herself to focus on the issue at hand. "So you think we're with them?"

Kal hesitated. _Goddamn military hierarchy. _Going by his silence, he did not seem to believe that himself, but apparently he would not say so about a superior's order.

"This can't be a coincidence!" Tisiphone almost shouted. "It has to do with us. It... it has to be Cerberus! They were already willing to send two ships full of armed troops to get Gillian, why not a third?" She hesitated. "Gillian! Where is she?"

"They are shouting for Gillian I'm told," Kal admitted. There was a pause; Kal apparently was contacting other patrols. "The marines she was with have been ordered to the fight. They told her to stay put."

"Oh nonono, that won't work out," Tisiphone answered anxiously. "We have to get her!"

"Yes. We can't allow her to fall into their grubby hands," Kal agreed.

He spoke with such a conviction that Tisiphone raised an eyebrow.

"They're the enemy, she's their objective and a Migrant Fleet Marine prevents his enemies from reaching their objective," he explained impatiently. "Look, we all know what they did to her. Most of us say you're too much trouble, but a kid getting abused like that? No quarian can accept that. So my team and I will go and we'll save her. We were told to watch you, but you're obviously no threat."

_Idealist fool. _Tisiphone doubted the quarians were as wholly good as he made them out to be, but still, she was again moved by his attitude. She disliked idealism; all too often that led to people sacrificing others for that ideal. However, she thought empathy was a quality found all too rarely.

"You can still watch us. We'll come along," she stated in a cool but determined voice.

"You?" Kal asked. "Your weapons are ancestors know where and..."

He stopped. Flames of blue energy burst forth from Tisiphone's body. It was a spectacular show-off, which she knew she would regret later. She doubted the quarians had levo-amino painkillers aboard. However, at the moment she just had no time to argue. Her people understood. Four further blue human flames erupted. Only Mitra and the sole non-biotic**[1]** in her team did not take part in this.

"Do you really think we need weapons? Do you really think you had us under complete control the whole time?" she asked. It was an exaggerated boast, but it was not completely divorced from reality. That had been the reason she had been able to make her promise to Farooq. If the quarians had turned out to be abusive, the biotics surely would have been able to take some of them down with them in the ensuing fight. The show worked on the stunned marines, unacquainted with biotic power as they were. "We'll go, we'll destroy them, and we'll save Gillian."

And with that, she led the way, in the direction back to the docking bay. None of the quarian marines dared to stop her. She and her group let their auras of dark energy recede again. _So, this is it again. Battle again. _She was ready. Gillian was a cause to fight for. In the end, that was all she still lived for anyway.

She would use her biotic powers, that curse the Alliance had forced on her, that companion of her constant pains she had never asked for. Just like the Uncle Toms, the people like Mitra and Alenko, did in the service to the Alliance. But there was a difference: They were _soldiers_. They did what they did because they were ordered to. They were ultimately just tools and replaceable. Tisiphone, on the other hand, was a _warrior_, and that was actually a very different thing from a soldier. She fought for what she believed in, for causes _she herself_ thought worthy. She could at any time leave this fight. Not that she would, of course, but that was due to her own choice. She was nobody's tool.

The collaborators would say such things like they had joined up for their own reasons, or that those people who had had them tortured held no power over their lives anymore. That was ridiculous. Those people high up in power did not _care_ for what reason the collaborators would serve, or why they remained passive on the issue of their torture. They only cared _that_ they were served and _that_ no unrest was stirred. The Alliance had tortured the Uncle Toms, and they served it. Tisiphone, on the other hand, would use her powers for her own ends. Preferably _against_ the Alliance. Or against Cerberus.

In the end, Kal had to take the lead again: Only he knew where the other marine patrol had left Gillian. The marines and biotics ran towards that location. They all hoped they were not too late.

"That's the place," Kal finally announced when they reached a corridor crossing. "She was left behind here." Nobody could be seen, neither at the place nor in any of the crossing corridors.

"Damn it!" Tisiphone cursed. "Where is she?"

"Wandered off, most likely, just as we feared," Mitra said.

"Hostiles!" a quarian marine shouted.

Both the quarian marines and the human biotics had battle instincts drilled into them. They immediately turned around with drawn and raised weapons, into the direction of the shout. Armed and armoured humans were running towards their position and began firing. The biotics and marines dispersed, sought cover behind the corners of the crossing and returned the fire.

Tisiphone had no doubt that those humans belonged to Cerberus, that this was an armed attack by Cerberus on the Migrant Fleet. So not only was the organization willing to ruin the life of an innocent child, they were even willing to use violence to regain her, willing to shoot down every quarian in sight according to Kal's report. As far as she was concerned, the Cerberus troops all deserved to die, just as the ones on Grissom Station already had.

Unfortunately, crammed as quarian ships were, none of the corridors were empty. There was lots of equipment and supplies stored there simply because there was no other place for it on the ship. That meant it was easy for the Cerberus troops to find cover, too. On the other hand, they were facing biotics.

"Yong, Maria, lift that crate!" she ordered. Together with her, the two biotics removed that piece of Cerberus' cover. The other biotics understood and also began to coordinate to dismantle the enemies positions. It was a draining process, but it allowed the quarian marines a free line of fire and forced the Cerberus troops to retreat some meters, behind the next line of crates.

However, there was no way the biotics could keep up this exhausting process forever. It was just a temporary boost they could give to their side and nothing with which they could chase the Cerberus troops away. The enemy would simply temporarily retreat and then advance again at the end of the biotic push. It looked like this would become a drawn out firefight.

Suddenly, Tisiphone heard loud noises from behind her. Somewhere down the corridor in their backs something was happening. Something or somebody seemed to loudly smash and crack stuff with an incredible power. It seemed they had another flashpoint right in their backs.

"Shit," Tisiphone cursed. "Is that them, too?"

"Who else _could_ it be?" Kal asked in return.

"Then we can't allow them to encircle us!" Tisiphone stated.

"Agreed," Kal stated. "Group Nerada, stay here. No heroics, just keep the enemy at bay. As long as you stay well covered that should be possible in these corridors. Group Leskun, with me. Tisiphone, you better leave some of your biotics here, too."

"Right," Tisiphone confirmed. "Farooq, Yong, you stay here. Follow the quarians' commands and support them. The rest with me. Including you, Hendel. If you all can, raise barriers."

"Group Nerada, suppressive fire on my command," Kal ordered. "The rest, those coming with me and Tisiphone, run on that command. Ready... now!"

Six quarians and four humans began to run. None of them looked back. They could only hear how the quarian guns run hot to keep the enemy in cover. The only other thing that registered was when their shields flickered up. Luckily, the quarians had allowed the biotics to keep their shield generators. In fact, since the biotics had also pulled up biotic barriers they formed the rearguard. Blue flickering was all around them as bullets began to overcharge shields and barriers. However, there was no time to worry. They simply ran on, along the corridor, towards where the noises were coming from.

Still, Tisiphone could not help but worry. Both of Kal's 'groups' seemed to encompass six quarians. All in all, quarians and humans, Kal's and Tisiphone's makeshift unit thus had been composed of nineteen people before splitting up. Yet, the Cerberus troops had seemed to be only slightly outmatched by those numbers. Given that there still was fighting in the docking bay itself, and that further Cerberus troops seemed to be in their rear, that meant the terrorist organization must have invested quite much into this expedition. She wondered how so many people could have fit into a vessel small enough that it could have landed inside the docking bay.

The corridor ended at a surprisingly large door. The noises were emerging from behind them, without any sign of lessening. Strangely, while it sounded like conflict, it did not sound like a gun fight. In fact, Tisiphone could hear no gun fire at all. Instead what she heard rather sounded like two titans were fighting hand to hand, smashing everything in their way.

"The mess hall!" Kal commented and opened the door.

What Tisiphone saw astonished her. The room might well have served as mess hall, so much was true. But it seemed not a single table, not a single bench or a single chair was still standing. They were cluttered all over the room and many of them were broken or badly dented. Dozens if not hundreds of nutrient tubes were scattered all across the floor. Cerberus troopers huddled among this wreckage, trying to approach what was in the front of all this unrest: Gillian. She glowed in the brightest biotic blue Tisiphone had ever seen. A table and two chairs were circling above her head.

To see a child defend herself like that against over a dozen armed people triggered all of Tisiphone's anger and hatred. Again, blue energy flickered all over body, but this time it was not deliberate. She felt like a living gun, an embodiment of revenge, ready to fire at any moment. Even though she had no authority over the quarians, even though they were outnumbered, she ordered: "Kill them all!"

"Do as she says," Kal confirmed her order to her surprise. His voice was ice cold and determined. "Charge!"

And that was exactly what the quarians and biotics did. Running between ruined chairs and tables, they crashed right into the enemy's flank. Tisiphone let her powers flare up and with a frightening war cry sent a massive biotic warp to clear the space in front of her. It flared across the room and impacted on one of the few Cerberus troopers who had possessed the presence of mind to return fire against the assault. Maybe it was a bit mad to charge into a gunfight without any weapons, but Tisiphone did not care. She would not let Gillian fall into the hand of those barbarians.

The assault sowed mayhem among the already disordered Cerberus positions. Suddenly, within seconds, marines and rogue biotics were in their midst, shooting them, lifting them to the ceiling or just plain punching them. With a ferocious growl, Tisiphone threw herself at the Cerberus trooper nearest to her. Trusting in her shields and biotic barriers, she completely disregarded the gun in his hands and began a series of vicious kicks and punch against him.

Already as child she had always been very large for her age and her sex. Other children had always teased her for that, and even as a grown woman it had come to haunt her now and then: She did not exactly fit into common standards of aesthetics and attraction. On the Migrant Fleet she had towered over all quarians so far, even Kal, who was tall by his species' standards. Even among the Cerberus troops there were few people larger than her, and the guy in front of her was definitely not. Thus, she was able to overpower him with sheer mass.

A series of well placed punches confused him. The grip on his weapon slackened - something Tisiphone immediately used for a biotic push that threw the rifle several metres away. It was then that he looked up with a scared expression on his face. It was an expression Tisiphone enjoyed. So far she had not been able to take revenge against the people who had committed the atrocities against her, but dishing out against people who would have done the exact same, for the exact same bullshit motives of 'human power' and who in fact had come to abuse another girl, that was nearly as good. Certainly she would show no mercy to such scum; to her they were not actually _people_. She flashed a grin and let dark energy run through her body. And then she began to pummel her enemy with biotically charged punches and kicks.

When she was done, he slid to the ground, unconscious, with several of his bones broken, and with bleeding wounds and bruises all over him. A puddle of his life liquid formed underneath him. Tisiphone stood in a predator's position, with slightly bent knees, elbows bent outwards and bared teeth. Behind her downed enemy, she saw a group of Cerberus people in a far corner of the room. They seemed to have no interest to join the fight and merely watched it intensely. She recognized one of them. _Leng! Kai Leng! _The monster who had nearly killed Tali.

She already considered attacking him, but even in her half-mad battle trance she knew she would have no chance weaponless against four people. She growled in frustration and was about to turn when she saw a sudden motion in that Cerberus group. Without any warning, Leng fell to his knees. Somebody seemed to have punched him right into the face. The other Cerberus guys tried to grab that person, but he or she eluded them. There was a bit of a struggle, but finally the person wrenched himself... _Definitely a him..._ free and came running towards the battle scene.

_It's Grayson! Unbelievable! _Gillian's 'father'. The person probably most responsible for the years long abuse of the girl. He came running right towards her, fleeing from the other Cerberus members. It was an almost absurd situation.

"Don't shoot!" he shouted when he spotted her, "I'm on your side."

Tisiphone narrowed her eyes... and when he had reached her, punched him right in the face. He went down. "I don't think so."

"No, I am!" Grayson insisted, holding his face and then leaping behind a table into cover. "On Grissom Station... when you retreated into the ship... Leng was taking shots on your people. It was me who knocked him down."

Tisiphone remembered. The second shot had gone widely off the mark.

"He had no qualms with shooting even Gillian!" Grayson went on. "He's crazy!"

"A bit late to care for her now," Tisiphone sneered.

"I always have!" Grayson insisted. "I _always _have. But look at her! Look at what she's capable of! Just look!"

Tisiphone did. In the time it had taken her to grind her enemy into the dust, Gillian had wandered off a bit and was hence in some distance away again. However, her biotic energy still illuminated the entire room. Without any effort she tossed around Cerberus members, chairs and tables alike. She seemed like an immense vortex of never ending biotic power.

"That's humanity's potential!" Grayson pleaded. "That's why Cerberus... why I did what I did. Think! Think about a humanity with such a potential!"

Slowly Tisiphone turned around to face him again. "Oh I love your kind," she growled in a dark, sarcastic voice. "Claiming to care, claiming to be oh so sorry for what has happened to us - but then spouting nonsense of why it was 'necessary' or whatever. If you ever truly cared you wouldn't be making excuses." She laughed bitterly. "Biotic potential? You want to see biotic potential?" She clenched her fists and let biotic power run into them. Then she cried out and threw herself at Grayson. Her blue glowing fist hit him square at his right shoulder. She felt bones shattering beneath the impact.

"There's your biotic potential!" she said with clenched teeth. "We biotics aren't just tools for you to be used, and I swear I'll make you all realize that. We're _people._ We have our own agenda." She tried to grin, but it ended up as a rather sickly grimace. "And I'll show you mine."

She looked around. Gillian was far enough away, and focused on other things. The child would not get to see this. Tisiphone raised her fist high again. It loomed menacingly over Grayson as its blue aura expanded. Maybe he had broken with Cerberus. However, it appeared he had learned nothing. Either way, as far as she was concerned, some people just did not deserve any chance at redemption.

"No..." he whispered. He tried to crawl away, but was bound at his place by his shattered shoulder. "No..."

Tisiphone struck. Right at his head. She had accumulated enough dark energy to do what she had set out to do. Under her strike, his skull scattered. Blood and a squishy grey matter splashed in all directions, sullying both the ground and Tisiphone.

When the biotic stood up again, she felt a throbbing in her head. _It begins already. _She knew soon she would hardly be able to move at all due to all the pain. _I have to wrap things up here before that. _

And with the pain came a familiar rage. A rage at the Alliance, at humanity, at the callousness and cruelty of her species. At the kind of people who had done such things to her. The kind of people like Cerberus. It was almost enough to make her forget the beginning headaches. _Rage is a hell of an anaesthetic. _

She began gathering up dark energy for another warp to be sent against the remaining Cerberus troopers. They had become caught between the anvil, Gillian's unassailable position fortified by her immense biotics, and the hammer, the quarian-biotic joint attack. _Probably the reason Leng stays outside. They can't win anymore. _

They could still do damage, though. Suddenly, a door on the other side of the room opened. A handful of quarians walked in, apparently oblivious to the battle inside, froze and looked around scared. Only a moment later, the first of them went down, hit by a Cerberus bullet. The others dispersed and fled in panic.

_Oh, __you bastards!_

Without further thought, Tisiphone rushed to the scene. Two of the fleeing quarians were chased by three Cerberus troopers. She realized that tactically this made absolutely no sense, and she could only see one reason why the terrorists would do so. _Frustration. They can't get Gillian, but killing some unarmed civilians? Easy and satisfying to xenophobic assholes. _That thought of course only heightened her hate.

She released her warp at one of the troopers, who was hit back by the accumulated dark energy. Then she lifted a table and had it float between quarians and terrorists, as a sort of primitive physical shield. It put quite a strain on her and her headaches were intensifying, but she kept up the biotic energy. When the two remaining troopers finally noticed her running towards them she swung the table at them. They went down under it.

When Tisiphone arrived, one of the terrorists had already begun crawling from beneath the furniture. She kicked him into the face, hard, but he still had the presence of mind to grab her boot and enough strength to make her lose her balance. She hastily summoned up another biotic warp. It was small and barely kept together but it was enough to hit a man still half buried.

Tisiphone cried out. Now the pain was so intense that her vision was all black for a whole second and even afterwards she felt dazed. When she came to her senses again, she saw that the _other_ Cerberus troopers had wrenched herself free on the other side of the table and was now taking aim at her. She rolled herself sideways to avoid the first shot aimed at her and leaped to her feet. _She has a shotgun. _Which meant that at this range Tisiphone's shields would very likely break if her enemy hit, but on the other hand said enemy's fire rate would be mercifully low.

Pain throbbed through her head, but she was also full enough of adrenaline to ignore it. Again her enemy shot. In an act of desperation, Tisiphone dived under the shot. As it was a shotgun shot some stray matter hit, but as she missed its main thrust her shields held. She landed on her knee not a metre away from the Cerberus troops and with a slight biotic push against the ground immediately got up again. Again, her vision was distorted by a renewed wave of searing pain and she crashed into her enemy uncontrolled.

The Cerberus trooper struggled to get Tisiphone off herself, but as the pain receded back to 'normal levels', the biotic could fight back. Again she overwhelmed her enemy with sheer physical mass. This time she did not use dark energy to bolster her strikes, she simply hit and hit and hit while sitting atop the terrorist, half blinded by her agony.

Suddenly she heard steps near her. She got up from the Cerberus terrorist, who by that time was long unconscious. She turned around - and looked directly into the barrel of an assault rifle, held by Kai Leng.

_Here we go again._ Tisiphone did not even wonder just why Leng did not shoot. She only knew she was in mortal peril, and reacted to it as she always had: Summoning dark energy to lash out at her enemy...

...only that there was no dark energy. Try as she might she could not summon it up.

Leng grinned as he saw her confused face. "You biotics rely too much on your powers, even though they're so easily countered."

Tisiphone understood. _He must have a dampening device. _The way it completely suppressed her powers, it was probably quite a powerful one, too.

"The Illusive Man ordered that I should observe Gillian's power in a field test before catching her," Leng went on. "Luckily, I don't have to hold back with you. You might have won on Grissom Station, but that was temporary. It was quite fun killing three of that whining complaining scum there to get your shuttle. And now I'll show you that I'm superior."

_Bastard. He seems to like his own voice. And who's this 'Illusive Man'? _

Leng took aim. "So now prepare to d..."

A hail of bullets made his shields flare up. Leng swung around, returned the fire, jumped away and sought cover behind the table Tisiphone had used as a shield. She looked into the direction of the fire and saw Kal running towards her and Leng, swift and agile like a greyhound.

_I never thought I'd one day be saved from certain death by a Migrant Fleet Marine..._

Suddenly, a renewed assault of pain hit her. Her head felt like it would explode any minute, and her back, especially her spine, felt like it was on fire. Dark energy left her uncontrollably and flickered all around her. _The dampening field... Leng must have suspended it. _Thus, the build up of dark energy which the field had suppressed, now came to pass, but she had no control over it. The accompanying pain was so great that she nearly lost her senses, hardly seeing or hearing anything anymore.

Just as suddenly as it had come, her biotic power left her again. The dampening field was in place again. Tisiphone saw Kal lying on the floor, somewhat _behind_ where she had last seen him. _He has been knocked back... one of the Cerberus troopers must have been biotic themselves! Hence the suspension of the dampening field. _

Only just coming to the conclusion exhausted her. Her eyelids fell shut... and when she forced them open again he saw Leng towering over Kal, who was still lying on the ground. She could barely recognize the silhouettes of the two people, and there was some shadow near to the Cerberus terrorist, but she could not quite see it.

She could understand the scene, though. Leng held his gun right at head of the prone quarian. His voice was cold and full of contempt. "Only quarian."

Suddenly, there was a person next to him, a man clad in black and white holding a pistol right at _Leng's_ head. "Sneer at this." The person shot.

It was a point blank shot at such a short distance that Leng's shields did not trigger. He fell to the ground, dead.

"That's for what you did to my daughter," the man told the corpse. _Admiral Rael'Zorah!_

And behind him she could see more quarians storming into the room. They were not Fleet Marines. They seemed to be lighter armed, and their envirosuits had no armour padding. _Armed crew members, most likely. The reserves have arrived. It's over. We've won._

…...

She had not passed out after the fight, but the pain had become so bad she had hardly been able to move at all. And it had not receded, not for a long time. The same was true for the other L2s in her group: Mitra, Farooq and a woman named Andrea. They had brought no painkillers with them from their hasty flight from Grissom Station, and the quarians simply had no appropriate levo-amino medication. They had been forced to withstand the agony the traditional way.

The quarians had taken great efforts to make matters as comfortable for them as possible. They had reserved a separate area in their hospital just for them, had made their beds as comfy as possible, and had brought them, from their meager levo-amino food reserves, whatever they wanted. It was somewhat odd. The attack on the ship had only come about because of the biotics, yet the quarians were grateful to them for their help in the battle, and to Tisiphone in particular for how she had defended civilians.

_Most likely humans would've simply blamed us and to hell with what we did in the fight. _Then again, Tisiphone knew she was always ready to assume the worst about human nature.

At least the Cerberus attack solved some problems for Tali. The quarians had absolutely no scruples anymore to integrate the _Golden Dog_, the Cerberus ship Tali had captured, into the Fleet. In fact, they had gone even further: Using the small craft with which the Cerberus attack team had arrived, they had been able to spot and approach a larger Cerberus vessel nearby, called the _Stygian Fire_. That was how so many Cerberus troops had fit into the smaller vessel: It was full of constructs similar to sleeping pods, minimizing the need for space, and the troops had spent most the voyage aboard the _Stygian Fire._ The quarians had managed to fake Cerberus signals while approaching the ship, and had hence been able to take it over, too.

_Two of their vessels captured by aliens, two entire attack squads eradicated, losing two high ranking agents and a plant in the Ascension Project... _Tisiphone smiled. The whole thing had been quite costly for Cerberus. In fact, it had been her who had ensured that the attack squad which had assaulted the _Neema_ was fully eradicated. The quarians had wondered what to do with the prisoners they had taken, and, following her No Quarter policy, Tisiphone had recommended their execution. The quarians had accepted that judgement of a human over other humans readily enough, especially as all other members of her group and even Hendel Mitra had agreed with it. Kahlee Sanders was the only human who had protested. At Tisiphone's suggestion, the quarians had simply spaced the surviving Cerberus troops.

She had left the quarian hospital some hours ago, after her headaches had receded enough that she had been able to get some hours of uninterrupted sleep. Now she was standing in the docking bay again, the docking bay that had been her temporary residence for some days and the docking bay from where Cerberus had struck, together with her group of biotics and Kahlee Sanders. A shuttle was standing nearby. It was time to go home.

Not everybody would. Hendel Mitra stood opposite to her, with Gillian at her side. Next to the girl stood Tali. She, too, had been released from the hospital only recently.

"It really is the best way," Mitra told Sanders. "You've seen to what lengths Cerberus has gone. Gillian would be hunted everywhere in the galaxy. But here, on the Fleet... I doubt Cerberus has any other contact here they can use. The quarians are just too isolated. She's safe here."

Sanders nodded sadly. "You're right. Besides, she really seems to like it here. I just feel a bit useless. I wish there was more I could do for her."

"I know," Mitra answered. "But don't worry, I'll take care of her." He looked at Gillian, who stood close to Tali and grinned lopsided. "And I think I won't be the only one."

"You're right," Tali simply said. She looked at Gillian, too, and slightly tilted her head. Tisiphone was sure the quarian was smiling beneath her helmet.

"She can grow up here, free of Cerberus' poisons, and I can her help her unfold her biotic potential," Mitra continued.

"We'll see about that," Tali disagreed. "We still need to speak about that."

Sanders went to Gillian, slightly bent her knees to be on eye height with her, and said her good bye. Meanwhile, Tali spoke to Tisiphone: "It's good to see there are humans out there with the same passion and empathy as Jon. I hope you'll continue your work?"

"Most certainly," Tisiphone answered. She was a bit amused. _Empathy is normally not the first thing people associate with me. _"Though now with a bit more precision I think. No more random strikes; we'll just wait until Goyle or whoever needs our help again."

Tali nodded. "Good. Sorry we can't give you any of the captured ships, but I think we need them more. A quarian pilot will bring you to the next major colony, and you can get a transport from there. I called Goyle, and she told me she'd arrange everything."

"Her predecessor would simply have washed his hands clean of us," Tisiphone commented. "And so would most Alliance politicians. Goyle is a surprisingly honourable woman."

A signal came from the shuttle. "Time to go," Tali said.

"Yes," Tisiphone agreed. "Ah... take care of Gillian, will you? I mean, I know you will, but..."

"Don't worry," Tali replied. "I'll make sure she stays on the _Neema. _Father doesn't like it, but for once I'm not inclined to listen to him. Both you and I are the heroes of the hour, so there's little he can do. And yes, I'll take care of her. So will Mitra. He means well, but I think there will be some disagreements about her..."

"That seems likely," Tisiphone concurred with a slight smile. "Goodbye then, Tali. Unlikely as it is, but maybe we'll see each other again.

"Maybe," Tali agreed. "Keelah Selai. Go in peace."

**000000**

**[1]** Even though the story always just summarily refers to them as 'the biotics', in the group count in chapter 5 it was established that there's also a non-biotic in it, which fits to the canon description of Kyle's group that it _mostly_ consists of biotics.


	12. Ch10: Joker

Gracefully, the ship flew through the darkness of night, illuminated only by the thousands of stars around it. The enemy was hard at its tail and fast as the ship was, said enemy was faster. Its only hope lay in the majestic cosmic body that now came into sight, a gargantuan pink and purple coloured gas giant. Its outer spheres were a perfect place for a little game of hide and seek. It would take the very best pilot to maintain a course through the gravitational chaos, to keep the ship intact and yet fast enough to shake off the pursuers. It would be a real challenge.

…

Joker sighed. It _was_ a challenge, but he had played through this part of the game at least half a hundred times already. And it wasn't even AR, let alone VR. Just a small holographic game for the omni-tool. Unfortunately, it also was all he had to kill time. And he doubted he'd be allowed to bring his VR-rig to the job. _Not __that __it__'__s __much __of __a __job__, __but __regulations __are __regulations__. __Especially __in __the __Navy__. _ He growled in suppressed frustration and looked at his omni-tool's watch. _15:20. __Still __more __than __half __an __hour __to __go__. _As usual, he had done nothing productive all day. But then, productivity was not what his job was about.

After Shepard's death, the Alliance had locked down the entire _Normandy_ crew. They even had taken Ashely into custody, but had been forced later to release her, under pressure from Council Chairwoman Goyle. The rest of the crew had been a bit luckier, but not by much. Most had simply been reassigned, scattered all over the Navy. But those crew members deemed to have had close contacts to Shepard remained under observation. And unfortunately, that included Joker.

They had grounded him, had barred him from any deployments as a pilot. The official reasoning was concerns about his fragile health, but he knew that was bullshit. The truth was they simply did not want him to fly any of their ships anymore. Not an associate of Shepard's, not after all the trouble the Spectre had caused. More than anything, the Alliance wanted _quiet. _Peace, so they could consolidate their hold over Council and Citadel. Any reminders of Shepard would be quite unhelpful in that, especially given the current crisis.

_Maybe I should just flee to Terra Nova... _But he knew that would not work. He knew he was being watched all the time, and while he was not _technically_ restricted to the base... this base was more or less the only thing that existed on this world. Officially it was named for some long dead scientist, but he only ever called it _Boondocks. _There was no way off it except with the Alliance.

So now he was Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, desk jockey. The Alliance had managed to find the most boring job in one of its most remote garrisons, and had deployed him to it. Or maybe they even had this position created extra for him. He certainly did not feel like he was doing anything necessary. _Weather __Communications__. __What __the __hell__? _Boondocks was constantly experiencing severe storms and sudden freezes, so the garrison in fact needed an extensive section only watching the weather. But that was not his job. His job was not even feeding the observed data into the base network. He only existed so that soldiers could ask somebody about the weather in the foreseeable future.

Which meant that now most of his work day consisted of sitting in a chair and waiting for somebody, _anybody__, _to come and ask him questions. Which happened maybe every two weeks, if he was lucky.

The door opened. Joker stiffled a groan as he saw Corporal Eccheverría enter. _Major grade asshole. _The corporal worked in the base's logistics section, and was probably here to fetch some supplies: To add insult to injury, Joker's 'office' was in fact little more than the anteroom to a storage area.

Eccheverría grinned as he saw the game holo the ex-pilot's omni-tool was projecting. "Still _something_ where you can pilot a ship, eh?"

_Bastard__. __Rub __it __in__, __will __ya__? _"Here's a weather forecast for you: Piss on you!"

But Eccheverría just continued to grin, fetched what he had come for and left again. Joker looked at the clock again. _15:35. __Oh __fuck __this__, __I__'__m __going__. _Not that he had exactly much to do in his bunkroom, either, but at least that way he could maybe avoid some of the assholes running around in the base.

With great effort he came to his feet. His leg bones were still a problem, but one he already had decades to have gotten used to. Slowly, he made his way out of the room and through the base. It was another disadvantage of being on the ground: Distances in military bases were rather longer than on ships. He estimated it would take him a good half hour until he would reach the housing complex.

_Damn __you __Shepard__. __This __all __happened __because __of __you__. __Because __you __had __to __save __my __sorry__, __crippled __ass __which __I __now __have __to __drag __across __the __base__. __Everything __went __to __hell __after __that__. _

…...

_A __new __day__, __a __new __challenge __at __the __job__! … __Haha__, __right__, __as __if__. _Again, Joker sat at his desk and was bored to hell. He fiddled with his omni-tool _This __place__'__s __extranet __access __is __a __joke__. __The __relay __satellites __are __pathetic__. __No __chance __I __can__ download __new __games __through __them__. _Even accessing normal extranet sites was was probably another reason for his assignment. Military censorship was ridiculously easy in such remote places.

However, he had his ways and means to trick censorship, and to get more bandwidth allotment then he had any right to. Manipulating the base's network had been ridiculously easy. _Probably even Shepard could have done this. _Thus, after some program routines sent, he had enough bandwidth to at least watch the news. He connected to one of the new asari news channels that specialised on human space.

He saw... _Wait__, __that__'__s __Feros__, __isn__'__t __it__? _Somebody was preparing to hold a speech. In fact he knew the woman. _Acelia __Martinez__. __The __colony__'__s __leader __since __Fai __Dan__'__s __death__. _Behind her stood Shiala, the asari they had rescued from the Thorian back then. By all accounts it was her who was really running and organizing things, but of course you could not have an asari as leader of a human colony. At least, not officially.

"_People of Feros_," Martinez began, "_A grave change of affairs is upon us. In the last few hours we've learned of the Alliance Navy's new deployment plans. An entire marines division is to be stationed here on the planet. Our sympathies for Shepard's cause, for our own cause of justice are well known and so the Alliance fears to lose control over the Attican Beta cluster. This forces our hand. As proclaimed leader of this colony, I cannot allow such attempts to intimidate us into loyalty. The Alliance has violated the social contract that would bind us to it, by abducting and abusing children, by covering up corporate crimes at a mass scale - crimes committed against us! - and by its creation of Cerberus __**[1]**__. It's ultimately responsible for hundreds of ruined lives, __unborn __foetuses and deaths! Following the continued cover-up of those matters, Terra Nova, Elysium and Eden Prime have broken away from the government and declared non-compliance. Feros now joins with them. As of this moment, we will no longer accept any orders, laws or regulations by or __from__ the Systems Alliance. We will remain outside government jurisdiction until the Alliance has cleared up all crimes committed or covered up by them, and has sufficiently compensated all victims. Including us. We will remain non-violent and non-aggressive, even to the Alliance marines, but nonetheless I urge everybody to be cautious and alert in the near future. That is all." _**[2]**

He grinned. _Feros__now__, __too__, __eh__? _The planet was home to only a laughably small colony, but it was the symbolism that would matter.

The newsfeed began to show the Alliance Parliament, with a narrator, probably an asari, speaking: "_Feros__' __declaration __of __non__-__compliance __has __led __to __further __heated __discussions __in __the __Alliance __Parliament__. __With __general __elections __upcoming__, __the __status __of __the __non__-__compliant __colonies __is __unsure__. __Conservative __MPs __have __demanded __to __have __them __excluded __as __a __matter __of __course__, __since __they __see __the __dissident __colonies __as __having __put __themselves __outside __the __Alliance__. __Others __argue __those __colonies __have __not __declared __independence__, __but __non__-__compliance__. __Hence __they__'__re __officially __still __part __of__ the __Alliance __and __thus __entitled __to __vote __in __the __elections__. __In __fact__, __several __progressive __and __socialist __MPs __have __accused __the __government __of __trying __to __manipulate __the __elections __by __disenfranchising __entire __colonies__. __Despite __this __it __seems __the __government __has __in __fact __no __clear __policy __on __the __matter __yet__."_

Joker was so engrossed with the news that he did not even notice people entering the room. They were four people whose armbands marked them as military police. _Shit, shit, shit! _Hastily, Joker closed down the news channel, even though it would already be too late. However, the MPs did not bother with him. They did not even acknowledge his presence. They simply went straight to the storage area. Some minutes later carried a heavy crate out of it. _MPs as pack mules? Something new at least, I guess. _Joker was relieved to no end that they had not in fact come for him, but he wondered what they were doing.

It was then that Corporal Eccheverría came storming into the room. He looked exhausted. "Stop!" he shouted. "You can't do that!"

_What __the __hell __is __going __on__? _You just did not tell this to military police. And especially Eccheverría did not, normally. The guy was way too straight-laced, way too much about duty and patriotism and all that blah-blah. Joker's omni-tool made a pinging sound: The connection to the extranet had been severed. The connection of the entire base network to the extranet had been severed. It was then that Joker realized something was very, very wrong.

One of the military policemen let go of the crate and turned to the Corporal. "Don't make a problem out of this," he calmly told him.

Joker realized how Eccheverría fumbled for something at his waist. _Fuck__! _Immediately, his hand went to one of his desk's drawers. The one where he had hidden a weapon himself. He wondered how the Corporal had gotten his.

"Don't!" the military police officer hissed icily. He had his own pistol drawn and raised. "Do you really think you can stop us, on your own?"

Eccheverría froze. Neither did he further try to unsheathe his weapon, nor did he move out of the way. Slowly and quietly, Joker opened the drawer. The idea to store a weapon there had come about by sheer boredom alone: Flagrantly violating the rules for shits and giggles. He would never have imagined that it would turn out to be actually _useful__. _

"Oh just shoot him!" one of the other MPs complained. She sounded strained; whatever was in the crate probably was quite heavy.

The MP in front of Eccheverría did not respond. However, his weapon was raised a bit further. Not much, just small bit. But Joker realized the intent. _He's taking aim. _And an MP who would just shoot somebody like that was most certainly not acting in a legitimate fashion. True, Eccheverría was an ass, but that did not mean Joker wished death upon him. Besides it was _his _job to give hell to Eccheverría.

He jerked the pistol out of the drawer, aimed it at the MP and said: "I could've sworn we usually use dummies for target practice."

Suddenly he had everybody's attention. The three MPs still carrying the crate hastily let it drop and reached for their own weapons. This gave Eccheverría the time to finally draw his. In the end, everybody had their weapon aimed at everybody. It was a classical standoff. Joker supposed he would have to use a new name for the colony now. _New Mexico... New New Mexico, that is. _

"We don't have time for this," the female MP hissed, the one who had already before urged to kill Eccheverría. "If we haven't everything together within..."

"We know," the MP in front of Eccheverría answered. He seemed unbelievably calm. "There's no need to shout this to the world."

Yet another MP rose his voice, addressing the Corporal: "Look. None of us want to die. We promise to not shoot anybody. Just let us pass, okay? This can end without bloodshed." He had a soft and smooth voice and sounded very convincing. At least Joker thought so, but then he was biased: He most certainly did not want to die. Any solutions avoiding that were good as far as he was concerned.

Eccheverría did not back down. "I know what you're planning." He hissed. "Traitors!"

"You gotta be kidding me!" Joker exclaimed. _Why __isn__'__t __the __fool __using __his __chance__?_

"Sorry you got dragged into this," Eccheverría answered. "Truly. You seem to be a better guy than I've given you credit for."

This was not good. Not good at all. The Corporal talked like a man who had already accepted his demise. _What __the __hell __is __going __on __here__?_ Joker's hands became sweaty and trembled slightly.

"Be reasonable," Eccheverría told the MPs. "You don't truly think you'll get away with your plan?"

"We have way more support than you could ever imagine!" the female MP hissed. "We..." She started to cough.

Soon, others began to cough, too, including Joker. He tried to keep his aim, but he was shaken by such violent coughing fits that it was impossible.

"What the hell?" the lead MP shouted, before further coughing rendered him unable to talk.

"G... G... Ga... Gas!" Eccheverría coughed out.

And a moment later, the world around Joker turned black.

…...

He awoke with a droning headache and general feeling of nausea. _A bit like a bad hangover after all those parties I never visited. _He noticed that he still wore his uniform, but he could not tell how much time had passed.

The room he had woken up in clearly was part of a medical facility, but he could not identify it beyond that. It certainly did not belong to his barracks. After a while, he realized it was clad entirely in metal and synthetic materials. There were no windows, but he could discover some Alliance Navy insignia. _A __ship__. __It__'__s __a __warship__'__s __medbay__. _After all, there were no space stations or other spaceborne installations nearby. Going by the room's size it had to be a larger ship than he had ever served on. Most likely, it was a dreadnought or a carrier. _What __the __hell__?_

He could spot two medical assistants in the room. Unwilling to stress his leg bones by getting up, he made himself heard with a cough and drew the attention of one of them.

"Ah, you're awake," the medic said and came to Joker's bedside. "Good. How are you feeling?"

"Shitty," Joker answered bluntly. "How the hell did I get here?"

The medic looked somewhat awkward. "Ah, yes, you'll be told that. In fact, I have orders to bring you to the Admiral as soon as you can walk. Uh, can you?"

_Admiral__?_ "Might be worth a try," Joker replied, "if that Admiral can tell me what's going on. So far nobody else seems to have been able to."

"Right. You'll get some painkillers and anti-nausea pills," the medic told him, "and then we'll get you to CIC."

It took a surprisingly short time for the medication to work. _Military medicine. Exchanging effecti__veness__ for increased side effects. I better not think about that further. _After only half an hour or so, the medic could take him outside the medbay. A marine had been stationed there, who now joined them. It was easy to conclude for Joker that he was a prisoner. _I must have ended up on the losing side of the confrontation __at__ the base... _

Slowly, Joker hobbled through the ship's corridors. The Medic walked at his side. Now and then gave a worried look to the ex-pilot, but thankfully he refrained from trying to help. The marine, meanwhile, always remained exactly two steps behind them. Neither the weird circumstances of her job nor Joker's awkward gait could even provoke the slightest change of her facial expression. Joker knew the type; the stone-cold professionals who might as well be drones. He hoped he would have nothing further to do with that marine.

Finally, the trio reached the CIC. It was an immense room. On the old _Normandy_, the CIC had been the largest room of the ship, but in comparison it would have looked tiny and crammed. And while the _Normandy_ had used the turian model of bridge design, with the commanding officer in the rear of everybody, this ship used the classical human model: The commanding officer's seat was in the centre of the room. Together with some more chairs and consoles for the higher ranking ship officers, it was located on a small elevation. In front of it was a holographic map, and all around it were the consoles and terminals of the CIC crew.

The medic seemed to know where to go to, aiming straight for a woman standing behind one of the crew's chairs. Going by her rank insignia, this was probably the admiral he had spoken of. While she was not a full four star admiral, Joker was nervous enough about being led to a Vice Admiral. Despite her rank, she wore a normal crew uniform. Her brunette hair had been cut down to military length.

The medic stopped a step in front of her and waited to be acknowledged. When he was, he saluted. "Service Chief Carver, ma'am. I'm here to bring Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, as ordered by you."

The admiral returned the salute. "Thank you, Service Chief. You're dismissed."

Carver saluted again and turned to go. The marine remained.

"I've been briefed on your medical situation, Lieutenant," the Admiral addressed Joker. It sounded actually friendly, which only further heightened the ex-pilot's suspicions. "You'll be here for a while, so we've reserved a seat for you."

She gestured to a chair in front of a terminal that had been shut down. Her face seemed to be naturally friendly, and her age probably was somewhere in that nebulous area of 'advanced middle age' that these days could span several decades. Hesitating, Joker went toward the chair and sat down.

"I'm Vice Admiral Paola Morese, commanding the Tactical Operations segment of the Alliance Navy's Second Fleet," she introduced herself. "I'm sorry for the rather unfortunate way you've ended up on this ship. Be assured that this will be only temporary. And don't worry about Corporal Eccheverría. Gas is a very effective way to end standoffs, and the one we used is very much non-lethal. We left him behind on the base in good health."

Joker remained quiet. He was wavering between a healthy dose of respect... or rather fear of her rank, and his anger and confusion about what had happened. "Ma'am I... why was I not left behind? And where are we?"

"Surely you suspect the reason, Lieutenant," Morese answered. "You were with Shepard. What you'll observe surely will be of special interest to you."

Joker groaned. "This'll haunt me for the rest of my life, won't it?"

Morese chuckled. She sounded sympathetic. "I rather suspect it will, and I'm sorry for that, too. But those are the facts. Shepard has thrown the Alliance into its heaviest crisis since its creation, and while you were simply following his orders, well, you haven't been entirely innocent of that, either. So I simply thought it proper that you should watch the solution to that problem."

"Ma'am, with all due respect," Joker answered, "but I've quite enough of this enigmatic bull... baloney. Could you please, please tell me what's going on."

Morese nodded, stepped to the console he was sitting at and started it. Moments later, a holographic map of the ship's surroundings could be seen. As a trained pilot, Joker could immediately read it. Apparently the ship was indeed a dreadnought, the _SSV __Mont __Blanc__,_ and she was accompanied by three 'wolf packs', small flotillas each consisting of a cruiser as flagship and three or four frigates. More ships trailed the main force; Joker recognized them as troop transports escorted by some more frigates.

And they all were closing in on a planet. Its visual image showed an extensive desert zone around the equator. It was Terra Nova.

"My god..." Joker whispered. "My god. The counterstrike begins."

"So it does," Morese answered. Even now she still sounded eerily friendly.

"But if the government starts military actions now..." Joker began.

Morese interrupted him: "They don't. Do you really think they could agree on any really decisive and helpful action? Of course not."

"A... a coup d'etat?" Joker whispered in terror.

Morese shrugged. "Call it what you want. For months now, the Navy has been forced to watch as the honour of the Alliance has been besmirched. Shepard knew he was needed, and he ruthlessly used this to force down his way on everybody else. So, it's only fair if now we do the same."

Losing all respect for her rank, Joker sneered: "Funny that you should have a problem with Shepard. No solidarity among fellow mutineers anymore."

Morese laughed. "You think you can provoke me with comparisons to Shepard? That's a little bit too transparent, Lieutenant Moreau."

"At least we only mutinied," Joker answered darkly, "we didn't try to launch a coup. Yes, that will certainly be a grand service to the Alliance, a military intervention into politics!"

"We aren't," Morese insisted. "There's no political decision making involved. We simply do what we're sworn to do: To defend the Alliance against all enemies, external or internal. It isn't a decision, it's an automatism."

"Funny, Shepard said much the same," Joker replied. "He called it a matter of basic decency, not 'duty'. I can see where this is lacking here." Morese tried to answer, but Joker continued over her. "I mean, come on. A coup d'état, in the Alliance? What sorta legacy do you think will this create?"

"I don't care," Morese answered. "I don't care what you call it, I don't care about legacy. I only care about what I have to do."

"Like Shepard indeed," Joker whispered, mostly to himself.

He looked on the map. The fleet had reached the planet's orbit, and the troop transporters began to descend to the surface. There were quite many of them. So many in fact that their escort seemed almost insufficient. The coup seemed to have more support among ground forces than in space.

"So why am I here then?" he asked.

"We're here to set a signal," Morese answered. "To show the futility of resistance against the rightful human state. And who better as an observer than a member of Shepard's crew?"

"A signal..." Joker repeated. Then it dawned on him. "This isn't a navy-wide coup. It's just the elements here, isn't it? That's also why only a Vice Admiral is leading this."

Again, Morese shrugged. "The rest will follow us once we've won our first victory. And the government will publicly condemn us, but secretly support us as soon as they'll find us useful."**[3]**

She looked at the holographic map, which now also showed the landing zones of the coupist marines. "Oh, that isn't good at all," she commented.

Joker now focused on these map segments, too. Apparently already now the marines faced resistance. He grinned. "The European 4th Division, plus Terranovan Special Police Forces."

Not that this was something to grin about, in truth. _European __soldiers __engaging __Alliance __marines__? __European __versus __Alliance__forces__? __We__'__re __fucked__. __Utterly __fucked__. _But he would be damned if he showed that sentiment to Morese.

One of the crew members looked at Joker from another station. "Enemy forces confirmed as EUAF, 4th Division and SPF of the Terra Nova Colony," he finally said. "I also get some reports about massed biotic resistance."

_Biotics__? __There__'__s __no __shortage __of __anti__-__Alliance __biotics__, __but __I __wonder __who __that__is__. _

Morese sighed, but that was already the greatest sign of displeasure she showed. "We still have numerical superiority. Most of the 4th Frontier Division, plus elements of the 9th." Again she looked on the map. "And we have allies."

Joker saw it, too: A second fleet approached the planet. Mostly light ships, plus more troop carriers. A moment later, their identifications flashed up on the map: They were Blue Suns ships. And going by how many of them were present, it looked like the entire mercenary fleet had been assembled.

"Shit!" Joker cursed, while Morese laughed. "Who the hell paid for _them_?"

"There are still patriots in the Alliance," Morese answered.

"Corporate toadies you mean," Joker grumbled, "Only their money could buy the entire B.S. fleet."

The light mercenary units slipped seamlessly into the coupist fleet, taking up positions between the usually larger Alliance ships, while their troop transporters initiated the landing process.

"Bad timing," Morese muttered, "they were scheduled to arrive together with us. But what can you expect from mercs?"

"Your glorious allies," Joker mocked.

A member of the CIC crew gave a datapad to Morese. "And apparently they want to see me. They're asking for permission to dock at the _Mont __Blanc__. _Ah well, courtesies have to be kept. Do it!" the Vice Admiral told the crew member.

While he maintained a defiant facial expression, panicked thoughts were running through Joker's mind. A coup in the Alliance Navy, European versus Alliance troops, the obvious involvement of corporate money... and he had _already _thought the crisis to be bad. Apparently that had been too quick. It would only get worse now.

"Docking manoeuvre initiated," one of the CIC staff reported.

"Incoming!"

That was another CIC crew member. Joker didn't know him, but he had his full attention. A moment later, he felt his weight shift, a sure sign that the ship's mass effect had been hit hard.

"What was that?" Morese shouted.

"We assume ground based weaponry," one of the crew replied, "Trajectory analysis is running."

Somebody else raised her voice: "Ma'am, I have fighters on the screen. Dozens of them, coming from the planetary east."

"Anti-orbit weaponry? Fighters?" Morese asked confused. "No matter, they still stand no chance."

Joker had to agree. The sudden barrage had shaken up some of the lighter units badly, but none seemed destroyed or unfit for combat. He wondered how Terra Nova had managed to install so many mass accelerators on such a short notice. Probably it had been part of their general arming up measures, and now those paid off. Even more mysterious were the masses of fighters now engaging the coupist fleets. Terra Nova simply should not realistically have the means to deploy so many fighters. Realistically, their population should not even have enough trained pilots for so many of them.

Nonetheless, Morese was correct: Even just against the coupist fleet all the ground-based mass accelerators and all the fighters stood no chance, nevermind against the combined coupist and Blue Suns fleet. Still, some aspects were odd. If the Terranovans had anti-orbital weaponry, why had they only fired it now, instead of when the troop transporters had come down? That was when the fleet had been most vulnerable. And how had the European and Terranovan troops been at the landing zones so soon after the fact?

Those mysteries bothered him, if only because he had nothing else to do anyway but pondering them. He must have looked quite lost in thought, because Morese grinned at him and was about to say something.

Before she could do so another report reached her, a report that changed everything: "Ma'am, ground forces report: Blue Suns have turned on us. I repeat: Blue Suns turning on us."

"_What__?"_ For the first time, Morese's friendly nature slipped.

"Hostile troops on the ship!" somebody else shouted. "I repeat: Hostiles on the ship!"

And yet another crew members: "Blue Sun ships have opened fire on us."

Yet again Joker was at a loss just what the hell was happening. _Must __be __one __of __those __days__..._

"Return fire!" Morese shouted, "Return fire! Ground forces are to fall back and regroup. We'll lend orbital support once we've finished up with these turncoats up here. Pack 4.3 is to fall back towards open space. Helm, take us between them and the Suns; our shields can take the punishment. Weapons, ignore the fighters. GARDIAN systems are to focus on the Suns. This doesn't go for the lighter units, their GARDIAN systems need to..."

Suddenly the lone female marine who had remained standing near to Joker all the time whirled around and drew her weapon. A moment and a barrage of gun shots later she lay on the ground bleeding, dead or unconscious.

A motley collection of troops came storming into the CIC. Most of them were humans, but there were also some batarians and turians clad in Blue Suns armour. Some of the humans belonged to that organization as well, but others wore a dark green armour. It took some time, but Joker's shocked mind could finally associate them with the Terranovan SPF. Some other humans wore armours that showed no uniformity. The most striking was a freakishly tall woman glowing blue with dark energy. Another woman wore a familiarly terrible colour combination: A pink and white armour.

This only added to Joker's shock. _What __is _she _doing __here__?_

Moments later Vice Admiral Paola Morese raised her hands in defeat.

"Order your fleet and troops to stand down," the woman in pink and white ordered aggressively, just as aggressively as Joker remembered her, "Now!"

Morese nodded to some of her crew who transmitted the order to surrender.

It was then that Ashley Williams recognized the bearded man sitting on the chair next to her. "Joker! What are you doi..."

Morese interrupted her. As always, she sounded friendly: "Don't draw wrong conclusions. We kidnapped him. He is... was our prisoner. He had nothing to do with what we did."

"I don't think I've ever been that glad to see you, Ash," Joker said, and meant it. "Just, can we get this over with quickly? I make a terrible damsel in distress."

Ashley snorted, but it sounded more humorous than derisive. "It _is_ over."

Another woman, belonging to the Terranovan SPF, added: "With minimal casualties, too. All thanks to you, Williams. I must admit, when you called me with your warning I had my doubts, but..."

"But you trusted me," Ashley simply said, and the other woman nodded. "And it's Ashley for you. After all, you trusted me more than even the Alliance Government, despite Goyle's efforts."

"I'm sure the Chairwoman did all she could," Morese commented. "But as you can surely imagine, our backers have contacts among the government." Now it was Ashley's turn to nod.

"Ah..." Joker spoke up. "But if it wasn't the government, then - just who outbid the corporations for the Suns?"

Both Ashley and the SPF woman looked somewhat awkward. Ashley replied: "Ah... let's say... Goyle has some contacts."

"And Terra Nova has some loyal backers," the SPF woman added hastily.

"Does it matter?" a boisterous voice asked. A man in Blue Suns armour stepped forward. "Either way, now _I_ am the new Saviour of Terra Nova." He grinned. "Or at least, that claim should make for some good business."

Joker saw Ashley roll her eyes, but she did introduce the person: "Vido Santiago, founder of the Blue Suns and their second in command."

"What about their first in command?" Joker asked.

"Batarian. And we're on Terra Nova," the SPF woman answered laconically.

Morese grinned. Joker had to respect how even in defeat she always seemed to retain her grace. "Well, as it is, batarians did take part in the defense of Terra Nova. I wonder how this will play out." She looked out into space. "Developments now should be interesting in general..."

That, Joker thought, was something they surely all could agree on.

**000000**

**[1]** Yes, this is factually incorrect, but Martinez doesn't know that. Most public information about Cerberus is based on Shepard's revelations when he broke with the Alliance, and Shepard in turn got his information from Kahoku - and Kahoku in ME 1 described Cerberus as an Alliance black op unit gone rogue. So even though that isn't actually true, that's what the galaxy currently believes. Which of course is a further boost for the dissident colonies and factions.

**[2] **Keep in mind that Martinez' analysis is highly subjective. Given the Alliance Government's stated goal of deescalation, one even might call it doubtful that they'd so openly use marines for purposes of intimidation. However, after Shepard's revelation how the Alliance used all means to prevent ExoGeni getting to court, the Ferosians are understandably even more extremist than the Terranovans and always ready to assume the worst.

**[3]** Morese's analysis, too, is quite subjective, and might be more her wishful thinking than reality. Then again, it might also be a good analysis of reality, of how the Alliance Government would react. The point is, it isn't actually that certain as she makes it out to be.

**000000**

**Despite this outlook toward 'interesting' times, this is the last regular chapter of Reaping The Storm. Await a denouement in the form of an epilogue and then we can finally, finally get to the ME 2 story.  
**


	13. Epilogue: Election Day

There was one aspect of the new asari media channels focusing on human affairs nobody had thought of before: While their target market was in human space, their seat was in asari space, and hence outside Alliance jurisdiction. That meant they could openly flaunt Alliance media regulations, and since it was nigh impossible to block the extranet, there was not much the Alliance institutions could do. And that meant that election forecasts were broadcasted on election day.

Council Chairwoman Anita Goyle was currently watching those forecasts on her omni-tool. She was sitting on a bench at the Presidium Lake, in one of those discreet, quiet spots one could find all over this part of the Citadel. She frowned slightly. Unsurprisingly, various leftist and progressive parties seemed to be making gains, but not as much as one would have expected. And far-right parties were making gains, too, riding on a wave of outrage against the non-compliant colonies. Smaller parties in general seemed to do well. It was mostly the established centre and the moderate rightwing parties which were losing votes. The next Alliance parliament would be quite a fragmented and bitterly divided bunch, it seemed.

Still, at least there was a general tendency towards the side the political spectrum Shepard had favoured, the side she and her Shepard Foundation favoured now. _Funny how that came to be. _Her rise in political prominence had been mostly as part of moderate conservative or centrist forces. However, she had burnt all those bridges when she had decided to put all her influence behind Shepard and his ideals. She had seen and still saw that as the only way to atone for her past mistakes, her past lack of empathy.

There had been certain attempts to avoid this political shift, like the idea to disenfranchise the non-compliant colonies. Many conservative and right-wing politicians had demanded that. Their argument had been that colonies who put themselves outside the government's jurisdiction could not very well expect to take part in determining said government. It actually had been a reasonable argument, but Goyle had no doubt that many of those politicians had in truth tried to bring about an election result that would be much more favourable to them if the dissident colonies were to be excluded.

After the Battle of Terra Nova, those notions had disappeared into thin air. That a considerable amount of units had flat out mutinied would have been awkward enough for the Alliance. That those units then had tried to forcefully overthrow a colonial government, only to be beaten by a ragtag force of defenders - local forces, European forces, mercenaries, top secret forces whose nature most people did not know - that was so completely, utterly _embarrassing _for the government that it simply was in no state to strike a defiant pose against the non-compliant colonies.

Inquiries about how such an attempted coup d'état could have come to pass, inquiries about the support the coupists had, accusations of secret government orders... it had been an avalanche of bad press and uncomfortable questions for the Alliance government. Trying to disenfranchise the dissident colonies, including the one which just had become a victim of aggression by Alliance Navy forces, would have made that all even worse. So in the end, the government had relented, and Terra Nova, Elysium and Eden Prime, plus a handful of pioneer colonies which had declared non-compliance, too, including Feros, were now able to take part in the Alliance elections.

Meanwhile, Goyle was using every bit of political capital she had to find out who was behind the attempted coup d'état. The large scale of the operation and the attempted hiring of the Blue Suns pointed towards corporate money. She doubted the information she was gathering would amount to much; at best it probably would be able to cause designated scapegoats to fall. However, accumulating incriminating evidence about the political enemy was never a bad idea.

A shadow fell on her. She looked up to find her unlikely ally in this whole affair standing in front of her.

"It appears you managed to get yourself quite a competent agent," Sparatus commented. "Lucky for you that she only reports to you."

"Lucky for your government's plans that she did report to me," Goyle retorted. "If the SPF's equipment had fallen into coupist hands - or if they had found out that not so little fighter base deep in the desert..."

"I know," Sparatus answered. "It was expensive enough for us to avert that. So I think you're in my debt rather than the reverse."

Goyle nodded. One could not play the grand political game without acknowledging debts and favours.

"I had my doubts when you contacted me," Sparatus continued, "but the material Williams had unearthed was quite alarming. And in the end, our cooperation has proven to be quite productive. The Alliance is currently in a most agreeable state of affairs. So the expenses have been worth it."

It was a blatant attempt to provoke her, so Goyle decided to turn the tables: "Next time I find my own government blockaded by agents of my political opponents... I'll again have yours pick up the tab."

"Oh, I think our financial expenses are not as great as your personal political expenses," Sparatus retorted, "After all, if information about this conversation, or certain previous ones, were to ever come out..."

"You're flattering me again, Councillor," Goyle answered. "I don't think the fate of my political career is, one way or the other, so important to your government that they'd risk the ensuing crisis with the Alliance if that data was ever released. Not to mention the losses both side's economies would take from the inevitable drop in trading."

Sparatus paused slightly. Then he said: "No, I suppose not. It isn't necessary. Experience shows you're doing quite enough yourself to hurt human businesses."

Goyle rose from her bench. "Maybe," she allowed. "But you wouldn't have that any other way, so maybe you should stop taking jabs at me. Imagine if you had to deal with Udina instead of me."

With that she walked away.

She had to admit, Sparatus' provocation had in fact hit a mark. The defeated coup d'état had made the Alliance more unstable than it ever had been since its inception. It had been the culmination of a development she had actively encouraged and supported, so in a way this instability was partly her fault.

However, the elections so far had been peaceful and inclusive, so it looked like things were on the up again. In the end, Goyle thought this instability to be just the pains of change the Alliance had to undergo, an investment of sorts into a better future. And for that, the outlook was very good indeed. After the very humiliating defeat of the coupist fleet, which happened in less than an hour of battle, further military actions were highly unlikely. And now the elections were a first step of reconciliation with the non-compliant colonies, but at the same time they would in fact remain non-compliant until the Alliance government had cleaned up its act. Thus, pressure would remain but further escalation was unlikely.

It had been quite a ride so far, but Goyle was convinced it would lead towards a better future.

000000

Terra Nova was a planet full of nicely radicalised people and with an oddly helpful government. On the downside, it also was a damn arid and _hot_ planet. Given her origins, it was kind of odd how problematic that was for Tisiphone, but then she had lived in the cold darkness of space most her life. First her imprisonment on Gagarin Station, then various bases in space or on lifeless planets throughout the years. Such installations were never heated up more than necessary, as anything else would be a waste of energy. She was almost unaccustomed to planetary atmospheres, and even more so to such a hot one.

Nonetheless, coming to here had been worth it. As far as she was concerned, the coupist soldiers had mutinied just so they could forcefully shut down all protests about the atrocities committed against her. And in a way that was in fact true, if only indirectly.. So tossing them around like inanimate objects had been quite fun, especially as this time she had been able to enter combat with a gun in her hand and with pain killers afterwards.

Williams' emergency call had been weird; few people knew where to find Kyle's group. Apparently this new human Spectre had been a crew mate of Shepard, had left the Alliance in protest and had even shortly been in prison over that, so she had seemed trustworthy enough. Thus, only some hours later, Tisiphone's ad hoc commando had left the base. They had reached Terra Nova just in time for the battle. In the end, said battle had been decided by the Blue Suns switching sides and by the boarding action in orbit in which she had taken part. Nonetheless, the Terranovans were grateful to everybody who had come to their help.

Thus, a few days later Kyle's group had been able to leave the crammed base Shepard had granted to them. Finally, they had been able to move somewhere more hospitable, somewhere with a bit more space. Officially 'Father' Kyle was still a wanted man in the Alliance, and so were some of his followers, including Tisiphone. However, the Terranovan government would protect them. 'Non-compliance' meant not following Alliance regulations, so for for as long as Terra Nova would in fact be non-compliant Kyle's group would be safe.

Another part of exercising their declared non-compliance was that Terra Nova was organizing the elections on the planet itself. Instead of letting the Alliance Electoral Commission do it, each of the major non-compliant colonies had created an own commission for that purpose, which merely cooperated with the Alliance's commission. Hence, the planetary commissions decided who could or could not vote on those worlds. And since Terra Nova immediately recognized Kyle's group as valid residents of their colony, that meant that for the first time in her life, Tisiphone had voted in Alliance elections. It felt almost unnatural to her, getting involved in this way in Alliance politics, supporting the Alliance political process. However, there was no reason not to use the vote she now suddenly had. Unsurprisingly, she had used it on one of the more radical parties out there; and given that this was Terra Nova there was even a certain chance that party could win a seat or two.

Still, this state of affairs was unlikely to last long. The various media channels, especially the corporate owned ones, already celebrated the peaceful elections as a first step of reconciliation in the Alliance. Whoever would form the next Alliance government most likely would eventually come to a compromise with the non-compliant colonies. It was imperative that by then Kyle's group would already have vanished again from this planet.

It was clearly time to leave Alliance space. What they needed was a colony on a sufficiently earth-like world, a colony whose foundation rested on ideological opposition to Alliance and Citadel. It would have to be a colony that nonetheless was astrographically near enough to Alliance space that Tisiphone and her people could still use direct action there.

Fortunately, there existed such a planet. Even if it was just as uncomfortably hot as Terra Nova.

000000

_Election posters. Who still uses election posters? _During election seasons on Earth one could hardly see the street in front due to all the holographic images and Augmented Reality objects. And that was just the legal side of things. The youth associations of the various parties, notoriously uncaring about the law due to their utter youthful conviction to be in the right, would use glow spray everywhere and hack extranet sites to praise their candidates at the public.

In the colonies, though, the necessary infrastructure for that did not always exist. The common stereotype about human space being rough and tumble beyond the Local and Exodus Clusters certainly contained much truth. There really were planets with more wheat and cornfields than people, with more vat meat factories than schools or hospitals, but with no proper infrastructure for its people and a miserable quality of life. On the mining colonies it was even worse. The pioneer settlements, those worlds with just a village of maybe 5,000 people on them, were the utterly worst. The colonists there had little else than shabby prefabs and plenty of mud around them. Shepard had definitely had a point when he had spoken out against the utter nonsensicality of those colonies.

Ashley's current surroundings were a far cry from that, but it seemed the very image of those stereotypes. Thumba was a colony jointly settled by India and Latin America. With around 300,000 people it was nothing like Feros, but it could not come even remotely close to what worlds like Eden Prime or Terra Nova had to offer in terms of life quality. She had come here to investigate some pirate attacks people had linked to the political troubles in the Alliance, but that had turned out to be a false lead. So now, she sat silently in a rundown bar, a glass of almost lukewarm beer in her hands and surrounded by a too loud crowd.

Half torn down election posters adorned every wall of the bar. Unsurprisingly, nearly all of them belonged to rightwing or centrist parties. Only very few remaining shreds attested to how at least some naive souls had attempted to hang posters from the progressive spectrum there, before they most likely had been violently torn down. Not that their cousins from the other side of the political spectrum fared much better: Hardly any poster seemed to be left intact and clean of beer spills or food stains.

Completing this cliché image of a bar was the holo above the bartenders heads, which seemed to flicker more than actually work. Its sound was almost drowned by the talks and shouts in the bar. Nonetheless, Ashley kept watching it, more out of boredom than genuine interest. The holo displayed the election results, and she had not voted anyway.

_A p__lague__ on both of their houses. _

She had helped Terra Nova because it had been the right thing to do. This help in the end had meant that turian-financed forces, turian 'volunteers' and troops equipped with turian guns had gotten to shoot at Alliance Navy ships and troops. Basically, she had helped an external power exploit an internal human conflict. She had done it because there had been no other alternative, but it still felt wrong to vote in Alliance elections after that.

Maybe it was just disappointed expectations. Becoming a Spectre had been Goyle's suggestion, but for a while Ashley had thought that maybe she could be a knight errant of sorts, struggling for justice and for uncovering the truth about the Reapers, just like Shepard had been. But the victory at Terra Nova had been too bitter to uphold that image. It had been a victory achieved by a mercenary force turning coats. That was not exactly something to write home about. Or maybe it already had been the discovery of how the non-compliant colonies were equipping their defence forces. Her father and grandfather were probably spinning in their graves.

Thus, Ashley had declined Lara's offer to come to Terra Nova for an election party, and had instead decided to stay on Thumba until the election madness receded. The SPF officer was a nice girl, but Ashley would rather not get caught up in the inevitable madness election night would be on the dissident colony. Even sitting in such a rundown bar was better in comparison.

A deep growl could be heard over the other chatter. "Pussies, the lot of them," a man shouted. "Pussies. Voting for those communist traitors due to some manufactured scandal."

Apparently somebody else had watched the news as well. Ashley sighed, annoyed.

"I mean, are we humans, or are we namby-pamby asari?" the man continued. Beard, rough leather clothing, cap. The very image of a common agri-colony farmworker.

"Yeah," a woman agreed. She looked very much less common. Going by her strong build, Ashley assumed organic augmentation, and lots of it. "I mean, some instructors pushed a bit too hard fifteen years ago, and they make a state crisis out of it. Jeez."

"Fucking crybabies," the man said, "Their special talent comes with a duty to the Alliance. To humanity!"

An image of Kaidan flashed in front of Ashley's eyes. Her muscles tensed.

"That we didn't really know what to do back then doesn't mean they now get to take over the government!" the man continued.

"What happened was bad," the woman admitted, "but bad things happen in galactic politics. The turians showed us that well enough."

"Bah, bad things; it was just the turians' standard training doctrine anyway," the man disagreed. "If they do it in the Hierarchy nobody complains, but when it's their own state, oh then all those traitors get agitated."

The thought of starting a bar brawl became ever more tempting to Ashley, be it to end the dull boredom or to shut up those two yokels. As far as she was concerned, not only were they unbelievably callous, they were also desecrating Kaidan's memory. She knew that she could take on both, that she could probably even take on a good part of the bar. After having fought geth, rachni and krogan some farm boys and girls were hardly a threat to her. Her fingers itched.

"Worst of all, we let those traitors vote," the woman said. "They don't want to follow government instructing, but voting, yes, that they do want!"

"They'll probably rig all their local results, too," the man agreed, "You'll see, Terra Nova will have all red**[1]** election results."

"Won't happen here," the woman replied. "I tell you, Thumba will be proud to not have a single commie vote."

"That better be so," the man agreed aggressively, "Because if I find a single red here, why then..."

Ashley sighed. It was pointless. Yes, she could take on those two people, and even more in the bar. She could also visit the next bar and start a brawl there, and so on. But what would be the point? The same opinions stated here were probably repeated all over human space at the moment. She could not start a bar brawl with every reactionary idiot in the galaxy.

_Maybe the Skipper's been right. Maybe humanity _is _fundamentally flawed. _

She focused again on the holo. Surprisingly, it did not show election results and analysis anymore. Instead it showed what appeared to be a star map. Ashley had no skills in ship navigation, but the map was abstract enough that even idiot viewers could see that the news would be about a location in the Terminus Systems. Which probably had been the intention.

_The Terminus? I wonder what news from the Terminus is important enough to interrupt the election coverage. _She asked the bartender to turn the sound volume up.

"_... remote as the world is, it had become a local manufacturing centre, producing ship spare parts to supplement the Terminus' scarce local shipbuilding industry. This had made the colony well off by Terminus standards, and also too important to attack for even the vilest pirates. This of course only makes what has happened all the more mysterious. Of its 30,000 inhabitants, less than 500 were non-human. Their bodies have been found all over the colony. However, there is not a single trace of the human inhabitants._

_It appears an entire colony of 30,000 humans has simply vanished. News of this incident __is __only now appearing in Citadel space, where reactions have been..."_

Now Ashley understood why this had interrupted election coverage. _30,000 people, just gone? I wonder what happened there... _

000000

Miranda had to admit she had held certain doubts when the Illusive Man had promised her whatever resources she would need for the project to bring Shepard back from the brink of death. Or rather, for all practical concerns, to resurrect him. However, he had kept true to his word. The so-called 'Lazarus Project' was even getting its own space station. Its core had been established in record time, and even now it was extended to all sides. And all that for one man who currently lay in the heart of this station: Jonathan Shepard.

Others would have marvelled at this station. In fact, most of her coworkers did. Miranda, though, had no time for that. She had gotten quite an exquisite array of tools, but still, to her, it remained just that, tools. Nothing so much to be amazed at, rather something to be used. If she failed at that, then all those resources would be wasted. Given how near the Reaper invasion most likely was, that could well prove fatal for all of humanity.

A short atypical thought also reminded her of the other races. However, they were not of her concern. It was not that she actively wished death upon them; it was just that humanity was the only race, and indeed the only cause, she cared for. Most other things in the galaxy and in her personal life were judged by utility; either utility towards that cause or sometimes, more rarely, utility to her personally. That asari, Liara T'Soni, had proven great utility when she had delivered Shepard's body to Cerberus, and over the years Cerberus had also used other aliens. And on a larger level, for the Alliance, mutual trade and political links with most of the alien states were beneficial.

Cerberus was not racist or xenophobic, not really, even though it made great use out of racists - xenophobia simply was too good a motivator to ignore. If aliens helped humanity they could be left alone or even tactically supported at times; if they stood against humanity's interests they had to be fought. In this, too, Miranda judged everything according to utility. And as far as she was concerned there was nothing in the galaxy with a higher utility to humanity than Cerberus. Few people knew what Cerberus did, but Miranda was informed about most of its activities. Based on that, she judged the Illusive Man to be the best leader humanity had; humanity's best hope for both survival and dominance.

So, if the Illusive Man decided that humanity needed Shepard, that Shepard had to be resurrected at every cost, no matter the political chaos he had caused in his 'first life', so to speak, then Miranda would do her utmost to see Shepard alive again. She was not entirely comfortable with some of her orders; the Illusive Man's insistence on restoring Shepard's mind just as it had been and his refusal to even consider a control chip went square against her natural instinct of paranoia. However, she trusted her superior to know what was best for humanity.

Miranda knew all about how the Spectre had nearly eradicated the entire military wing of Cerberus, and how he had then used records of the captured rachni to get the Council to hunt the entire organization down. Cerberus was still reeling from that, as the Citadel was not relenting **[2]**. Things were getting somewhat stable again, as less and less of the organization's hiding spots were being found, but they still had taken quite a hit. On most of his missions against Cerberus, Shepard had used his 'Spectre Entourage', his aliens. Due to Cerberus' influence on the Alliance, he had wanted to make sure to appear as Spectre, not as Alliance Navy Commander. And part of that Spectre Entourage had been T'Soni.

However, there was no use in revenge. Instead it had proven far more productive to manipulate the asari into doing what Cerberus wanted. She had proven to be quite resourceful on Omega Station. She seemed to be a very apt tactician, but she lacked in strategy. She had required some direction, which Miranda had gladly provided, and even though she had then skillfully won Shepard's body, she had not quite known what to do with it afterwards. It had been easy to manipulate her into giving it up to Cerberus, despite the past hostility between the organization and Shepard's crew.

So now Cerberus had not won any 'vengeance', whatever that might matter, but it had won Shepard's body. That was preferable by far. And instead of taking revenge against Shepard, they would try to use him. That would be even better.

The question now was how exactly to achieve that. Before he could be of any use, he had to be revived again. Despite the promise of limitless resources, Miranda was not absolutely certain how to proceed. There were several ways to achieve their goal. All of them were ludicrously expensive, but if their prices could be matched they were are feasible. It was just a matter of which tools to get, which systems to use, how much time to invest, and how many shortcuts they were willing to take. At least theoretically; in reality, none of those treatments had ever been tried. And even just this attempt would surely consume billions of credits, no matter whether successful or not.

Miranda looked at several datapads, all dossiers on various treatments. The easiest way would be cybernetics, but it would also be the crudest way. While the Illusive Man had primarily spoken about retaining Shepard's mind as it was, she still felt it would be a violation of the spirit of his order, if not the letter, to not at least try to also restore Shepard's body as it had been before. So for now, she was looking into measures of large-scale tissue growth. Unfortunately, while it was the most exact method and the 'softest' method in terms of impact on the patient, it was also the most expensive and time consuming one.

She sighed. Whatever way she chose, there was a considerable risk that it would prove to be the wrong one. All that responsibility lay on her.

The door to her office was opened. Two technicians entered.

"You're late," she remarked curtly.

"Ah, sorry," one of them apologized. "They had to pull us from the construction crews, and our time schedules are tight."

"I see," Miranda answered coldly. 'Limitless resources' did not mean 'waste of resources', so it made sense that there were not more technicians than strictly necessary on the station. "Next time remember that it won't matter how quickly the extensions are built if the core station doesn't work right. I need this computer to work in order to run all necessary simulations."

In fact, a large part of her office's space was taken up by a computer whose sole purpose was to create medical simulations, to predict how various treatments would work on Shepard. Seeing as she was about to decide on just that, it was imperative that it work properly again, and soon. _The damn thing has been glitching since day one. _

"Ah, yes, ma'am," the technician replied, "We'll get working on it right away."

Miranda nodded and concentrated on her datapads again. _I suppose we could at least try large scale tissue growth and see how far we get. It's always possible to change to a cheaper and less time consuming method later on, if need be. On the other hand, it makes sense to concentrate all resources on one scenario and then run with it, despite all the problems associated with putting all eggs in one..._

"So if I may ask, how did you vote, Operative Lawson?"

Irritated, Miranda looked up from her work. It was the assistant technician who had spoken up. She had a sweetly-friendly smile on her face, and she had this sort of bubbly, upbeat voice that could pierce through every attempt at mental concentration. Her superior looked quite aghast, and when his gaze met Miranda's he quickly resumed working.

"Vote?" Miranda asked sternly.

The technician seemed undeterred by the Operative's voice. "You know, in the Alliance elections. Can't let those anti-human goody two shoes win, after all."

"That's of no concern to me," Miranda answered, "and neither should it be to you. It won't be the Alliance putting humanity at the top of the galaxy."

"Ah, I suppose," the technician conceded with some confusion, "but it _is_ the human state. Surely that matters somewhat."

"Not enough," Miranda answered. "I have an entire station to run here, and a man to resurrect. I don't have time to concern myself with unimportant political circus shows. And you don't have time for leisurely chatter; you're just here to repair that computer. So get to work on it."

Hastily, the technician did just that. Miranda made a mental note to keep her observed. The Lazarus Project would be difficult enough anyway; there was no place on it for people with such lax work ethics.

000000

Joker had not bothered to even look up the name of the world where he was trapped now. It was yet another unimportant world with a marine base on it, far away from most shipping lanes. As far as he was concerned, he simply had returned to Boondocks, even if it was a totally different base and a totally different planet.

On the plus side, he now at least was not required anymore to sit in a storage room and pretend to work. On the negative side, he now was officially detained at this base. The official reason was to investigate his role in the attempted coup d'état; quite many officers who had taken part in it were detained here. In reality, everybody already knew he had just been kidnapped by Admiral Morese; the real reason for his detention was to keep him out of the way. The Alliance Government was in enough trouble by the mutiny without having to worry about potential interviews by former members of Shepard's crew, especially if they had been somehow involved in said affair.

He wondered how long this state of affairs would last, how long the Alliance Navy would store him away, far, far away from where he could cause trouble. Far, far away from any ships, on the ground, where he could at best hobble to get forwards.

At least voting had not been a problem as the garrison had an own voting station. Historically, there had been some experiments with extranet ballots, but in the end the government had deemed this to be not safe enough. The problem was that humanity was some centuries behind in extranet programming, and so even the best human programmers and hackers could not stand up to what the other races had. Or at least, not to what the salarians specifically had. And while the salarians were the closest allies of the Alliance in terms of day-to-day politics and hence had no reason to manipulate Alliance elections, it was properly better to not give them any opportunity to start with. Or to give any other potential hackers out there an opportunity.

So instead, most of the time non-connected election computers were used. This election, though, had a particular focus on fraud prevention. Since every major non-compliant colony had an own election committee that meant four were in action all in all, and that in turn meant the radical ends of either side could accuse the other side of fixing the election in 'their' area. That coupled with the particular importance of the election meant it was imperative to use the safest means possible. As a result, the voters were now back to pens and papers; if expensive paper with ID microchips. The Alliance Election Commission used 'electronic paper' from the human market; the planetary election commissions, distrusting human corporations on principle, imported theirs from the asari. That would only open up yet another venue for accusations of vote fixing.

_What a crap. I shouldn't think about it. Never have. Shepard, it's due to him. He was always going on about those things. Must've rubbed off. Hell, the fact alone that I've dragged my ass across the base just to cast my worthless vote shows that._

Military personnel on active deployment had ways to mail in early votes. That had always been much more comfortable for Joker. Even then, though, he had rarely made use of his right to vote. Now he had, though. The garrison was the sort of place where its people would pat each other on the back that not a single progressive vote had been cast. Joker had just spit into that soup, voting for the most radical progressive party he had found on the ballot. It would not amount to much, but hopefully it would annoy some people watching the statistics for this election station.

With a sour grin he left the election station and began the long, bothersome way to his housing complex. At least his own room would await him there. He certainly enjoyed that luxury, even though it had been a pure security decision: Given his well known status as a former member of Shepard's crew, and a sympathizer of his causes, the base's commander had decided it would not be entirely safe for him to share a room with others. And while Joker did not like to think about it, he had to admit it was pretty much true. He already got hostile stares anywhere he went. So far, watchful MPs had prevented any public incident, but Joker knew he would be pretty much doomed if he had to bunk with any of those people.

He sighed. He had joined up in order to fly, in order to be free. Now the Alliance Navy felt like an oppressive prison. He decided that once he had reached his room he would need a tour through the shadier parts of the extranet to cheer himself up. Data security was just as shoddy as it had been in the last base.

However, as soon as he had opened the door to his room he froze. Two people were inside it. One man and one woman, both wearing identical grey suits and shades. _Shades! Who__'s still wearing shades?_They looked like cliché versions of government spooks from movies. _What the hell are they doing here? _

"Lieutenant Moreau," the woman greeted him. "Please excuse our presence here. We had to make sure our meeting would remain... discrete."

_Well they certainly knew how to pick the right person to chat me up. Nice voice. _He suppressed a grin at his own self-deprecating thoughts and said: "Hey, let me guess, you have an offer for me I can't refuse or something like that. Just who are you?"

The man grinned ever so slightly at that. "In fact, that's very much why we have come, yes. You do realize you'll never fly an Alliance ship again, I hope."

This immediately soured Joker's mood. "And what concern is that of you?"

The woman picked up the conversation again. _Typical good cop bad cop routine. _"Your talents would be wasted, Lieutenant. We've come to ensure that this won't happen."

"What do you mean by that?" Joker asked. He did not quite trust these people.

"As it so happened, our organization has a need of a good pilot," the woman explained. "A need of the best pilot in human space."

"So, I'll just walk up to Colonel Klink's office and tell him 'Sorry, I'm outta here, got a new job', or what?" Joker protested.

"No. We'll take care of it," the man answered. "Our organization has enough influence to make it happen. It will also be a demonstration of how much we value your skills."

"Your organization... just what _is _your organization?" Joker demanded to know.

The man grinned. "Oh, Lieutenant Moreau, I think you know it. But you don't know the whole story."

**000000**

**[1]** Note: International political colours, not backwards American political colours :p

**[2] **Citadel, Council, Conduit, Cerberus, Collectors, Crucible, Catalyst... Bioware's love affair with the letter C...

**000000**

**And that's all, folks. At least, concerning Reaping the Storm. The Alliance's crisis is dying down, even though it might not return to normal stability just yet. But there won't be open civil war. **

**It might take some time until the ME 2story is up and running, but don't worry, it's coming.**


End file.
